Halloween: Vengeance
by gamester76
Summary: Michael Myers is dead, and as been for a decade. So the people of Haddonfield believe. Unfortunately, someone got the facts mixed up. Because Myers isn't dead, and on the night before Halloween, escapes Smith's Grove and returns home. But Jason Loomis, grandson of Sam Loomis, is hot on his trail, hoping to make this Halloween the last for Michael Myers! Full story now online!
1. Prologue: The Dead of Night

Happy Halloween, readers! The story you are about to read contains graphic violence, rough language, and other assorted adult content. Reader discretion is advised.

"Halloween: Vengeance" is the culmination of seven years of hard work and research. The final product, when last I checked, had reached 31 chapters and over 73,000 words! Quite impressive! And the whole thing is now complete! So here now is the prologue for "Halloween: Vengeance!"

Also, for those reading this wondering when new chapters of my "Child's Play" novel will post, an update: with the recent announcement of "Curse of Chucky", the sixth film in the series, due to be released sometime next year, I have decided to put my novel, "Revenge of Chucky" on hold until the new film is completed in order to avoid any continuity problems that may arise. Have faith, Chucky fans; it has not been abandoned!

And now, without further ado, "Halloween: Vengeance..."

Prologue

The Dead of Night

Samhain. If you were to ask the average person on the street what it means, they probably wouldn't have a clue. They would be surprised to learn that it is a holiday. And we celebrate it every year. It is a medieval Irish word for "End of Summer." It is also the name of a festival held at the end of every summer to mark the beginning of winter.

In those days, the festival was held to honor two things: the summer's harvest, and the dead. Other parts of the tradition included lighting huge bonfires and dressing up in elaborate and beautiful costumes in attempts to ward off evil spirits. Though this word has passed out of common knowledge, we still celebrate the holiday each year, though now it goes under another name in Western Civilization: All Hallows Eve, or Halloween.

When people think of Halloween, specifically young people, it still means dressing up in costumes, which are, sadly, far less elaborate than those of days long past and are usually just cheap marketing tie-ins for popular movies or comic characters, in order to procure candy from their neighbors and friends parents so they can spend another year rotting out their teeth with treats made of near pure sugar.

Teenagers use this time for different reasons. They like to play sick and perverse jokes on one another, or tell scary stories to children about bogeymen who hide in closets and under beds and will grab them at first chance and drag them down into another world of horrors...

And as for the adults? Well, they spend the night watching over their trick or treating children, making sure that none of their Tootsie Rolls or popcorn balls or Snickers Bars contains anything like poison or razor blades. What most over-cautious parents don't realize is that this is kind of a moronic precaution since a razorblade of any decent size would stick out like a sore thumb in a Tootsie Roll and, indeed, any tampering of any type of candy would be clearly evident in the wrappings for that particular tooth-rotting sweet.

But this is how Halloween is celebrated in nearly every part of the world. Of course, some traditions vary or are removed entirely depending on the culture. In places like Mexico and other Spanish countries, the day is used to honor one's deceased ancestors. But in the town of Haddonfield, Illinois, Halloween is just another word for mayhem...

Oh, Haddonfield _used_ to celebrate Halloween in the traditional manner of costumes and candy and parties till the break of dawn. And some of the town's people still do, but only in attempts to erase the memories nightmares of all the terrible things that have happened here.

It all began on Halloween night in 1963, when the scream of murder cut across the town's golden farmlands and through the chilling night air. On that night, six-year-old Michael Audrey Myers murdered his sister Judith Margaret Myers in cold blood, stabbing her no less than ten times.

The six year old Myers was locked away. But it was only a matter of time before he escaped and returned to Haddonfield to continue his bloody rampage. And he did. Over and over and over again, for nearly twenty-five years.

And then, one day, his rampage was ended, seemingly forever. But of course, there were those who knew better...

October 31st, 2002

Haddonfield, IL

11:35 P.M.

The wailing sound of sirens cutting through the chilly autumn air was not a sound that was unfamiliar to the people who resided in the sleepy town of Haddonfield, Illinois. Especially for the older residents, and doubly so on the night of October 31st. The old timers, who sit at Carpenter's diner every morning and all day trading war stories over coffee, will tell anyone who will listen that this town has always had a spot of bad luck when it comes to Halloween. And they aren't lying, either.

And, a black smoke lifted up high into the even darker sky and red flames leaped around threatening to ignite everything within grasp of its heat, tonight didn't seem to be an exception.

Police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks raced down the streets towards that blazing inferno in the heart of town. People stood on their porches to get a glimpse of the convoy, but the vehicles were moving so fast that they were nothing more than a blur of red and blue with a whoosh of passing wind.

The location of the chaos unfolding tonight was the most famous haunted house in all of the Midwest: the former childhood home of brutal mass murderer Michael Myers. It was in this very house that the young Myers brutally murdered his older sister, Judith. Myers was locked away, hopefully for good.

Obviously, he hadn't been.

Fire trucks and ambulances were parked up and down the block while police cars had cordoned off the block. Firefighters raced back and forth around the burning property, putting out embers that drifted away from the fire. The house itself was intact, but the garage was lost for good. Overhead, helicopters whirled around the scene, most of them news choppers trying to piece together the story.

A tall, black man with dreadlocks and a very oddly shaped face sat in the back of an ambulance. He looked up at the medic attending his arm. He had smashed it inside the burning building during his fight with… Well, he'd rather not think about it.

He babied his arm, which was now in a sling, as he hopped out of the ambulance and made his way over to Sara Moyer. Sara had on a denim jacket over a black shirt, which was blackened with ash from the fire. Her long brown hair, which at one point made her seem like the girl next door, was now covered in soot and caked in dried blood, not to forget she reeked of gasoline. A small head camera was mounted to her left ear, part of the broadcast from earlier in the evening. They had both been through Hell in the last four hours.

Freddie Harris was in the entertainment business. But his latest foray into the medium, tonight's live broadcast "Dangertainment," had been a complete flop. "Dangertainment" was supposed to be six people, including Sara, exploring the childhood home of a local killer, who was supposed to be dead. During the broadcast, the college kids were supposed to uncover clues as to why he went crazy. Most of the evidence had been planted by Freddie and company to ensure an audience, but when two of the kids accidentally uncovered an underground lair, they realized that the killer wasn't so dead after all. Only the help of Sara's friend, Deckard, through Sara's Palm Pilot, had saved her and Freddie.

Deckard was a guy Sara had been chatting with online for the last few weeks. She had told him earlier about the "Dangertainment" broadcast and urged him to watch it. Fortunately, he had been, and had relayed information to her and Freddie via instant messaging to keep them alive. He had been keeping track of Myers throughout it all, and it had ultimately saved their lives. Sadly, they were the only two.

Seven people, including Freddie's girlfriend Nora and their technical producer Charlie, had been killed. The other five had gone to the local community college with Sara, two of them, Rudy and Jen, she had known since she was a little girl.

Rudy had been a culinary major at Haddonfield College, well on his way to his own series on Food Network, while Jen was more of a free spirit looking for a way into network broadcasting, which had always been one of her passions, right up alongside free love. And now, both of their lifeless bodies were being carted away from the house on stretchers covered in bloody white sheets. It was almost surreal.

Sara was walking in the middle of the street when her pocket beeped. She pulled out her Palm Pilot and saw a message from Deckard. "You're alive," it read.

She looked around her, searching. Was he here? How did he find her? Another beep, another message: "We can see you on TV!"

Sara looked around just in time to see a mob of TV reporters rushing her way. They stopped just a few inches shy of mobbing her and began asking all sorts of questions, thrusting microphones and cameras into her face.

"Sara, can we get a statement?"

"We can go live right now."

"Do you have anything to say?" Sara thought of what to say for a moment, and knew instantly what it was.

"Thank you, Deckard, you saved my life."

Then, the barrage of questions started again, more probing and prodding this time.

"How do you feel now that it's all over?"

"What makes you so sure it's over?" Sara asked back, but her response was drowned out by the cacophony of other questions thrust at her.

"Sara, who is Deckard?

"What happened tonight with Michael Myers?"

"Is Michael Myers truly dead?"

"Were you friends with any of the victims?"

"What does it feel like to be a hero?"

Sara was overwhelmed by the reporters and was slowly backing away when a tall, dark man stepped over her, getting right between her and the cameras.

"Enough!" Freddie commanded as he pushed through the crowd. "No more cameras. Dangertainment is off the air! Why don't you all show a little respect?"

The questions were now directed at Freddie.

The barrage of questions continued, this time directed at Freddie. One baldheaded reporter pushed through and asked Freddie if he would like to make a statement.

"What can you tell us about Michael Myers?"

Freddie could not believe these people. Here was this girl who had just lived through what would probably go down as the most traumatic night of her young life, and these vultures wanted every gory detail. Nevertheless, he would give them exactly what they wanted.

"There's not much to tell. He's Michael Myers. He's not a sound bite, a spin-off, a tie-in, or some kind of celebrity scandal! Michael Myers was a like the killer shark from _Jaws_ turned human and stuffed into baggy ass overalls! He got his kicks from killing everything and everyone he comes across! That's all. I'm done dancing for these cameras." Freddie then turned to Sara and said, "Let's get out of here."

But the bald-headed reporter wasn't done.

"How are _you_ feeling right now?" His cameraman was only inches away, filming Freddie.

Calmly, Freddie chuckled and said, "How am I feeling right now?" His tone became angered as he repeated. "How am _I_ feeling right _now_?" He turned toward the bald reporter's cameraman and subtly signaled for him to turn his camera. He then shouted at the top of his lungs, "FEEL THIS!"

In one swift move, Freddie grabbed the cameraman's camera by the lens and shoved it backwards into the man's face. The man fell to the ground as the reporter rushed to his side before turning to a cameraman from another station and asked, as Freddie led Sara away from the carnage, "Did you get _that_?"

The senior officer at the scene, the one who was calling the shots at the moment, was a young man by the name of Lee Brackett. He was only twenty four, but had already obtained a surprising rank within the Haddonfield Police Department, thanks in no small part to a family legacy. And that legacy meant that he was the ringleader of the circus unfolding around him.

Brackett stood about 5', 11" and had a mop of dark, curly hair that made him ridiculously easy to spot in large numbers. He looked just like his father in his younger days, before he had lost his hair. His father had once been Haddonfield's sheriff, back in the seventies. Lee had only been three years old when his father retired and moved them to St. Petersburg, Florida. Lee grew up hearing stories about a sister who had been killed on Halloween the same year he was born: 1978. She had the same head of curly hair that seemed to be a family trait, but her life had been, unfortunately, cut short; ironically by the very same sadistic madman who had caused tonight's bloodbath.

Maybe that was the real reason why Brackett felt a twinge of closure as he stood next to what had, at one point, been a garage for the house, but was now just a hunk of wood and metal, arms folded across his chest as he watched the firefighters and the paramedics pulled a charred hunk of flesh out of the garage: that killer had been served up like a piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

"Hey, Lee," shouted a medic. "Did you order Original Recipe, or Extra Crispy?"

"How about burnt to a crisp?" Brackett said in a mocking tone as the medics tossed the slab of flesh into a black body bag on a gurney. A firefighter zipped it up and wheeled it away down the driveway.

Sara broke away from Freddie and made her way to the firefighter. She stopped next to the gurney and stared at the body bag on it.

"It's him, isn't it?" Sara asked. "I want to see his face."

"I want to warn you, ma'am; it's not a pretty sight," the fireman warned. Sara looked at him demandingly. Knowing he would be unable to deter the young woman, he shrugged and slowly unzipped the bag. Sara gasped as the bag opened to reveal…

"Hey, back your ass up!" Sara heard Freddie shout at a cameraman who wanted to get a close-up on the body. Sara looked at Freddie, then back at the body, which had been burned black. The face, however, was unmarred. A sleek, white mask on the head was only slightly blackened, at least the parts that hadn't been melted away or fused to the flesh. The hair, however, had been completely burned away. Nothing some water couldn't clean off.

"Lookin a little crispy over there, Mikey," Freddie said hoarsely. "Like some chicken-fried motherfucker! May he never, eve, rest in peace!"

A wave of uneasiness swept over Sara as Freddie said those final words. Shaking it off, Sara zipped up the bag in disgust. "Get this bastard out of my sight," Sara said through gritted teeth. The fireman agreed and wheeled it to the back of an ambulance. A paramedic with a goatee loaded it inside and slammed the doors. Sara and Freddie watched as the ambulance drove off.

Haddonfield Memorial Hospital Morgue

11:48 P.M.

Ten minutes later, Amanda Thorson was cleaning up her station inside the morgue and getting ready to go home. She had had a long day and had just finished up with the guy on the table, who had once been a strapping young man with a fairly chiseled body and, according to the official report she had written up, a heart attack. And now, it was time to go home to her loving husband, and her little girl, Carrie.

Plus, hanging around dead people all day in this sterile room filtered through blue lights with an entire wall covered filled floor-to-ceiling with dead bodies, it was a little more than slightly unsettling.

She was almost ready to go when the doors to the morgue burst open. The goateed paramedic, Jay, along with an orderly, wheeled the gurney into the sterile, blue-lit room and parked it near an empty table.

Amanda was grief stricken. "You got to be shitting me! Another one!"

"Lucky day, actually," said Jay. "You have a celebrity!" He grunted as he and the orderly lifted the body onto the table.

"Hot damn, let me find my autograph book!" Amanda shouted sarcastically as she grabbed her facemask.

"I'm not kidding. It's Michael Myers." Jay said gravely.

Amanda paused, scared. She knew damn well the name "Michael Myers," as did everyone in Haddonfield. Even though he was dead, he was still scary to be around.

"Get me a copy of that autograph," Jay chuckled as he went out the door, followed by the orderly.

Amanda stared at the body bag for a long time. Jay had to be pulling her leg. It couldn't be him. He was long dead already. The last she heard, he had died years ago in a fire at the police station in 1989. Yet that couldn't be true; he was in a body bag not four feet away from her _tonight_. Mark _had_ to be pulling her leg.

_Only one way to find out_, she thought. She pulled her flowing blonde hair back into a ponytail and replaced her facemask. She pulled down the plastic face shield and cautiously walked over to the bag. She grabbed her small cart with the surgical tools and moved it next to the table. She placed a tape recorder on the cart near her sterile tools. She pressed the record button and the tape began recording.

How would she start the analysis of the body? She faced the tape recorder and began.

"Patient's name is Michael Audrey Myers, aged 45 years. Estimated time of death: 11:15. Cause of death…"

She trailed off as she placed one hand on the bag and the other on the zipper. Slowly, she pulled the zipper down the bag. The top of the bag started to fall away. Amanda gasped as she stared at the charred mask of Michael Myers. His eyes were closed and the hair on the mask had been burnt off. The whole thing smelt of burnt rubber. There were some spots where the mask had been completely burnt away and it appeared the mask had fused to the face in these spots. Michael's arms were folded mummy style in the bag across his chest. In short, he looked like a mummy.

Amanda turned back to the tape. "Cause of death looks like severe second and third degree burns to face and neck," Amanda said as she pulled the zipper down more. "…and torso," she concluded.

Part of his clothing, a tight-fitting pair of coveralls, had been burned away, allowing clear glimpses of his burnt flesh. She took her hand and moved it towards his face. She thought she would peel back the mask so she could describe the injuries in detail. Her blue-gloved hand slowly inched towards the mask.

In an instant, Michael's eyes snapped open as Amanda's hand barely touched the burnt rubber. She let out a piercing scream as the Shape locked eyes with his next victim.

Down the hall, the two friends were laughing about the look on Amanda's face when Jay told her it was Myers.

"Her eyes got so fucking wide, man, it ain't funny," the Jay said in a mockingly serious tone.

"So what, it's the truth. She was going to find out eventually." Mark spoke with a thin Brooklyn accent. It used to be really heavy, but his time in the mid-west had watered it down. Mark had grown up in the Big Apple. He was a balding, heavyset man of forty-five and was about two heads shorter than Jason. Everyone in the hospital called him many things. Among the most common, though, were Jay and stoned. It was common knowledge that Jason always smoked a bowl before going to bed at night.

Jay and Mark laughed about Amanda all the way to the elevator at the end of the hall. Jay pushed the button to call the elevator when they heard a loud scream. They turned around simultaneously, their eyes darting the vacant hallways.

"What the fuck was that?" Jay asked.

"That sounded like somebody screaming," Mark said.

"Was it Amanda? I've never heard Amanda scream, have you?"

"I don't know why she would be screaming," Mark said. "Unless..."

Terror flooded Jay's face as the elevator dinged behind them, but neither of them got on. Instead, they turned right around and fled back to the morgue. After what seemed like an impossibly long sprint, they reached the doors and pushed them open, nearly falling onto the room's linoleum floor. Mark looked up and saw Amanda suspended at least a foot in the air by a large man covered in ash and blood, holding her up by her neck. He was squeezing tightly, Amanda's coughs and sputters choking among the cracking of bones in her neck.

"NO!" someone shouted.

Michael Myers turned his head and glared evilly at Mark and Jay. The Shape threw Amanda against the wall with an excessive amount of force that one would think impossible for a normal man. But Michael Myers is no normal man.

Amanda's head slammed into the wall and left a bloody crater on the tiled surface as her body crashed to the floor and began to pool even more blood.

Michael then reached up for the light fixture and grabbed it, giving a sharp downward pull. The light partially removed itself from the ceiling as sparks flew from torn cables. The fixture began to strobe on and off as Michael advanced towards Mark and Jay. Myers did the same with the next lighting fixture, tearing it from its mooring on the ceiling and causing the room to go nearly dark with momentary strobes of flashing light.

Not thinking, Mark charged Michael head on. Big mistake. Michael grabbed him by the face and began putting on the squeeze. Mark began screaming in unholy terror as blood poured from his eyes and nose. A loud crack signaled that the job was finished as Michael tossed Mark against the edge of the table. Mark's head smacked against the corner of the table with a sickening, wet, satisfying crack, and he fell to the floor in a heap. Terrified, Jay turned tail and ran out the door, fearing for his own safety.

Michael looked around at the cart and eyed a variety of weaponry. There were scalpels, saws, electric drills, etc. But Michael had his eyes on a three foot long surgical machete. He strolled over to the cart and picked it up, holding it in his hand for a while as if weighing it. It was almost like it had become an extension of his arm. Michael held the machete tightly and began the chase.

Jay slammed shut the janitorial closet door. He backed into the buckets of water and tumbled over them with a clumsy crash and the crack of splintering wood. He lay motionless, not daring to breathe lest Myers hear him. He looked up and saw what had broken: a mop handle. He grabbed it and pulled it close to him, holding the broken end towards the door, prepared to lunge it forward at the first person to come through that door.

He heard footsteps outside. The acrid smell of blood filled his nostrils and he knew Michael was outside the door. He pulled the mop handle tight.

The door seemed to fly away as Michael pulled the wooden door off its hinges. Seizing the opportunity, Jay thrust the mop handle at Michael, catching him in the side. Michael jumped aside, offering Jay the chance to run fast. He bolted past Myers, who was momentarily stunned by the surprise attack. But Michael was quick to regain his composure and turned towards the fleeing Jay. Myers raised the machete high and tossed it through the air like it was a dart.

The machete hit true and sliced into the back of Jay's skull. Jay only felt a slight twinge as the blade entered the back of his head. In a split second, the blade exited his skull between his eyes, right above the bridge of his nose. He stood for a second, trying to hold on with all his strength and stay alive as long as possible. Finally, the pain became too much and his knees buckled beneath him as he collapsed on the floor.

Michael Myers walked over to his kill and placed a foot on the neck of his newest victim. He removed the machete with one hand, causing blood to pool fast around Jay's head. Michael took extra care to avoid the blood as he made his way to the elevator. He approached the elevator doors and prepared to press the "UP" button. The elevator doors began to slide open. Michael tightened his grip on the machete, walked through the doors, and began his ascent.

In a room on the second floor, Sara sat on the edge of the bed as the nurse dressed her various cuts and bruises. The officer who had brought Sara to the hospital stood on the opposite side of the bed as the nurse and just watched as the nurse did her thing.

"Ow," Sara squealed as the nurse brushed against a raw spot on her skin. A knock at the door distracted both Sara and the nurse, but the nurse simply said, "Come in."

The door opened and Freddie Harris stepped inside with a cast on his arm, which was resting in a sling.

"Hey Sara," Freddie said with a smile. Sara replied with a smile as the nurse finished her work. She stood up and nearly immediately fell to the ground. Freddie helped her up and back onto the bed.

"Hey, watch out, honey," the nurse said. "Your leg's going to be a bit stiff for another ten minutes, so try not to walk on it too much."

"Ah, she'll be alright," said a voice Sara didn't recognize. A second man, a little younger than Sara, walked into the room and stood right next to Freddie. Myles Barton had had plenty of time to change out of his costume and into something a little more traditional, such as a Marilyn Manson concert tee and a pair of jeans. His hair was a slick mess, but that was usual for guys his age.

"Who are you?" Sara asked.

"Oh, right," Myles said. "It's, uh, Myles Barton. You probably know me better by my screen name: Deckard."

Sara's face lit up brightly, all the troubles and terror from that night seemingly washed away, perhaps banished from her mind by a single thought: _God, he's cute._

"Jen thought you were fifty and bald with a bad toupee." She chuckled.

"Nope, it's all my own," Myles said as he gave a small tug at his locks of brown hair. This made Sara smile even more.

"Mr. Harris, let's take another look at that arm, shall we?" the nurse said. Despite Freddie's attempts to argue the contrary, the nurse dragged him out of the room with her, the police officer shortly behind, and closed the door. Sara and Myles were now alone. That awkward silence that comes when two people had been forced into isolation together quickly passed as Sara spoke up.

"How do you thank the guy just who saved your life?" she asked.

"I'm pretty sure Mr. Harris did most of the dirty work," Miles said.

"Yeah, but you played a pretty big part of it, too. So there's got to be something."

"Well, if you're insisting on it, then I'm pretty sure we can work something out between now and eternity..." Myles said with a chuckle. He took a good, long look at Sara: her face was caked with dirt and her long, shoulder-length hair was matted with blood. Despite all this, Myles still could not help but think that Sara was extremely beautiful.

"You know, you have to be one of the most beautiful women I've seen in my entire life."

"Well thank you for the compliment," Sara said with a chuckle. It was only then that Myles realized he had been thinking aloud. He let out a somewhat embarrassed smile as Sara laughed heartily.

_He's the romantic type,_ she thought. _This night may just turn out to be alright after all..._

Down in the lobby, Scott waited on his friend Myles to finish his visit with his girlfriend. Scott was still wearing his _Pulp Fiction_ outfit; he couldn't have been bothered to remove it, given how much love he had gotten at the party before that thing with the webcast at that same party. Besides, he was kind of digging the 'fro look.

Scott figured he'd be here a while since Myles also needed to give the police a statement, so he sat down and grabbed the nearest magazine he could grab, which was the newest issue of Playboy. A small ding behind him made Scott look up. An elevator was opening, but he couldn't be bothered to find out who was getting off. Instead, he was too focused on the rack Miss November, 2002 possessed.

Michael Myers strode off the elevator with the machete in hand. He saw a black ball of fluff sitting in a chair a few yards away from him and strode towards it, gripping the machete tighter. He reached out and grasped the afro, yanking it away with an almighty heave.

Scott felt a breeze. He leaned forward as he felt it and instinctively felt for his head. The afro was gone. He stood up and turned.

"Hey, what-" Scott started dry heaving. It was Michael Myers. But that was impossible: Michael Myers was dead. He watched him die. "-the fuck?"

Myers held the afro in his hand and the machete in the other. He stared at the wig as if he had never seen one before, but tossed it aside and went back to the business at hand. Scott began to scream, but it was forced back down his throat as Myers lashed out with the machete and embedded the blade into the side of Scott's head. Scott rolled with the force of the blade, which had sliced halfway into the side of his head, through his right eye, and stopped above the bridge of his nose. The crunch of metal-meets-bone echoed in the large, empty waiting room. Scott collapsed to the ground and knocked the blade out of his skull.

Upstairs, Freddie heard the screaming. "What the fuck was that?" he asked.

A cop who had been patrolling the hallways for the sneaky news reporters appeared besides Freddie, his Glock already unholstered.

"You heard it, too?" he asked.

"It sounded like it came from the direction of the lobby," the nurse added.

The cop walked towards the end of the hall, gun at the ready, followed closely by the nurse. He checked both corners before moving over to the glass edge guard. He leaned over the railing and looked down at the bloodied corpse of Scott one story below. The nurse puked at the sight of the mutilated corpse down below. The officer raised the Glock, but didn't see Myers jump out of a previously closed door and grab the nurse. He did, however, hear her scream as Myers twisted her head around and off her shoulders. Myers dropped the head and angrily tossed the body over the railing, watching the nurse's body fall like a rag doll to the lobby floor below and landing with a sickening, wet crunch.

The officer raised the gun and fired a slug into Myers' shoulder. Myers grabbed the officer by the neck and lifted him off the ground. Myers grabbed the officer's leg and brought him down on the railing. The officer's back broke with a crack, followed by the shattering of the glass railing. The officer's body fell to the first floor as well, landing on what remained of the nurse's corpse. Myers then turned towards Freddie, who stood frozen in front of Sara's room. He darted inside the room and shut the door the moment Myers began moving towards him.

"It's him!" Freddie shouted. "It's Myers, he's still alive!"

"What?" Sara shouted as she tried to get off the bed. She collapsed to the ground with her bad leg and Freddie helped her up. Myles held his shoulder under Sara's arms, as did Freddie.

"We got to get outta here," she whimpered.

"Can you carry her by yourself?" Freddie asked.

"Yeah, I think so!" Myles said. "Why, do you have a plan?"

"Nope," Freddie said as he grabbed the syringe with the needle. "I'm making it up as I go!" He grabbed the I.V. tube and tore it loose, making a quick noose with the tube before walking out the door.

"Michael," Freddie shouted. "Over here, motherfucker!

"Go, run!" Freddie shouted at Myles and Sara. "Get the fuck outta here!"

Michael approached Freddie, who held the needle behind his back and the tube in his visible hand. Sara and Myles ran out of the room and down the hall.

"Come to Freddie, motherfucker," Freddie shouted as Myers got closer. Once Myers was close, Freddie took the needle from behind his back and raised it over his head; it was filled with air. He plunged to the needle down, but Myers swung the machete up and connected with Freddie's arm! The arm, now severed from Freddie's torso at the elbow, dropped to the ground and bled profusely.

"Freddie!" Sara cried. Freddie screamed as blood soaked the stub of arm he had left. Myers backhanded Freddie and sent him tumbling into the glass rail.

What happened next happened in slow motion for Sara. She ran towards Freddie's screaming, tumbling body, which landed with a wet crack on the floor below; Myers charged towards her with the machete in hand. She looked up to see Myers toss the machete at her. Sara closed her eyes and waited for the end...

For Myles, it all happened in the blink of an eye. All he saw was the machete rushing towards Sara and he reacted; he whirled around with his back to the machete, protecting Sara as best he could from the blade. Myles screamed as the machete pierced his backside and chest. Sara screamed as well when a few inches of it pierced her left breast. Myles froze against her body, a trickle of blood seeping down his lips. Sara had gone silent now. She was looking at him with horror in her eyes. A smile crossed Myles' lips.

"Hi..." His voice was cracking and blood flowed from his mouth as he spoke, cascading onto both their shirts and making him sound like he was drowning, which he probably was. Sara couldn't take it anymore; she buckled under her own weight and Myles'. He collapsed on top of her, still pinned to her breast.

Myers walked towards the pair on the ground. He stared viciously into Sara's eyes. Fear filled them as he walked closer. He pulled the machete out of Myles' body, lifting him off of Sara for a brief moment before falling back onto her. Myers raised the machete above his head, ready to strike. But he wasn't fast enough.

Something jumped in Myers' backside, registering the pain before the earsplitting noise of the .44 Magnum. Myers felt five more rounds go into him. Michael staggered forwards as each slug slammed into his back. Four of the six slugs exited through Michael's chest and the sixth and final bullet grazed Michael's cheek as he collapsed to the bloody linoleum floor. Michael's head hit the ground with a dull thud as the man who shot Myers put his gun away.

The officer turned behind him as he heard a door burst open. Several doctors and cops flowed out of the emergency stairwell, the cops fanning out in the cramped hallway. The oldest cop, a balding black man with a thin mustache, looked at the cop who shot Michael.

"What the hell happened here, Loomis?"

"I wish I knew," he said, his voice trailing off.

"Shit," the man, whose nametag identified him as "Robinson," said softly.

Jason Loomis, the officer who shot Myers, put his gun away and pulled out his hand radio.

"Brackett, this is Loomis," he said into the hand set. "You better get over here to the hospital. We've had a situation. Over."

"Copy that, Loomis," Brackett responded through static. "On my way; E.T.A. ten minutes. Over and out."

Loomis tucked his radio away and walked over to where Myles had collapsed on Sara. Her legs were bent behind her body and Myles was clearly crushing her. He pulled Myles off of her and rolled him off to the side. He looked at Sara's eyes and placed two fingers on her neck to check for a pulse. It was faint, but it was still there; she was still alive.

"We got a live one here!" he shouted. A nearby doctor approached her and kneeled down to check her over.

"Excuse me, miss. Can you hear me?" Sara remained unresponsive.

"God, I think she's going into shock! Can we get some help over here?" the doctor shouted.

Loomis looked over at Myles and sighed. This one probably wouldn't make it; his wounds were way too deep. His eyes were open, cold and staring. Loomis reached to close them when the boy gasped for air!


	2. Chapter 1: Morning Routines

Chapter 1

Morning Routines

Haddonfield, IL

October 30th, 2012

7:24 A.M.

Carrie-Lee Thorson buried her eighteen-year-old face into her red satin pillow. She didn't care about anything else in the world right now; she just wanted to sleep.

She was having a peaceful dream about her boyfriend, Travis Ross. She saw him standing by her bed in the middle of the night, shirt thrown casually aside to reveal a set of six-pack abs; she was laying back on her bed as he crawled in right next to her, hands draped across her chest. There was a pounding coming from somewhere. She leaned over to Travis and kissed him softly on the lips. Travis ran his hand through Carrie's soft, curly brown hair as the kissing became more and more passionate. For some reason, the pounding seemed to keep growing louder and louder until…

Carrie cracked her eyes open and gazed lovingly at Travis, lying asleep less than four inches away from her nose-

"Wake up, Carrie! You're going to be late!"

Travis _really was_ next to her. In her bed. For real. Not just in the dream! And her dad was banging on the door! And she was bare-ass naked!

Carrie's eyes went wide in horror and she sat bolt upright. "I'll be down in a minute, dad!" Carrie screamed as she listened for her father's retreating footsteps. As soon as they were gone, she flung herself out of the bed and landed with the grace of an Olympic gymnast on the floor, turning on the spot back to her bed.

"Travis, wake the fuck up!" Carrie screamed silently as she turned to her boyfriend. Travis slowly stirred in the bed and looked up at Carrie.

"Morning, beautiful," he said.

"No time for the romantic crap," she said hoarsely. "You got to get out of here before my dad finds you!"

Travis lay for a moment, and then a look of surprise descended over his face as he realized it was still a school day, and all he was still in his underwear. "Oh, shit," he said and grabbed for the nearest pair of jeans, struggling to get his leg in them.

Carrie began to panic as she also grabbed a set of jeans; these seemed too big for her, but she didn't have time to consider that fact as she pulled the belt tight.

_Wait,_ she thought. _I don't wear a belt..._

"Travis," she whispered hoarsely. Travis looked down at the jeans Carrie was donning, which were his own, and then down at the pair he was attempting to put on; he had one leg in Carrie's pants and was causing them to bulge at the seams. Carrie helped him remove the jeans, and then began rushing to put on her panties and jeans at the same time.

"We didn't get to finish what we started." Travis said, pulling his pants up and grabbing his South Pole shirt.

"We can finish Wednesday at the party." Carrie replied quickly and quietly. Travis put on his steel-toe work boots and walked over to Carrie. She had just found a bra and was holding it in her hand when Travis grabbed her shoulder, spun her around, and planted one right on her lips.

She wrapped her arms around his stocky shoulders and let her thoughts melt away. He pulled away and they both smiled. For the longest three seconds, nothing was said. Then, Travis turned towards the window and opened it. He put one foot on the sill when Carrie called his name. He stopped and turned towards her.

Carrie walked over to him and grabbed his hand and put it on her chest, clasping her own on top of it.

"Don't forget to bring protection. I don't want to end up like that slut Lizzie." She put one of his fingers into her mouth and caressed her lips with it. "Or, maybe I do..."

"Don't worry, Carrie. I'm smart. I know what I'm doing."

With that, he put his foot out the window and crawled through. He walked to the edge of the roof and, with gymnast-like reflexes, jumped off the edge. He landed cat-like and stood up, walking over to the hedge and jumping over it before continuing down the street to his truck.

Carrie jogged to the window and watched Travis leave. She couldn't help watching his farmer's swagger as he walked casually down the street.

She suddenly felt a breeze and realized with a start that she was still topless. She pulled away from the window and shut the curtains.

Downstairs, in the kitchen, Joe Thorson sipped on his morning coffee, newspaper in hand. He could hear Carrie flipping the house upside down as she looked for… something.

"Dad, where are my glasses?" Carrie shouted.

"They're on the mantle," Joe said softly. Joe was the type of father most people wished they had: he was loving and caring, but it was never to the point where he encroached on his kid's privacy. He always gave Carrie her own space and let her learn from her mistakes, rather than flat out telling her how to live her life. Maybe that was why they had grown closer in the last decade…

Carrie, now fully clothed in a form-fitting pink t-shirt and her hair pulled back into a ponytail, hopped down the stairs and, in her haste and blindness, smacked her shin on the coffee table.

"Son of a bitch!" Carrie shouted loudly.

"Watch out for the coffee table." Joe added with deadpan delivery, not even looking up from his newspaper. Carrie limped over to where the fireplace mantle was and began feeling around for her glasses case. She felt it just to the left of this large, square-ish looking blur. She pulled her glasses out of the case and put them on; the square-ish blur became a crystal-clear photograph of her mother, Amanda. Carrie saw the photo every day, but today she started getting a pain in her chest, specifically her heart. It had been almost ten years to the day since her mother had been killed.

There was a large mirror sitting behind the photograph. Carrie's eyes darted from the photo to the mirror, observing all the similarities between her's and her mother's faces.

"Carrie, your coffee's getting cold."

Carrie snapped out of her trance and hustled over to the kitchen. She grabbed a bagel and sat down in the chair next to her dad. As she spread strawberry cream cheese over the bagel, she skimmed over an article near the bottom of the newspaper's back page:

SILVER SHAMROCK NOVELTIES STIR CONTROVERSY WITH NEW MASKS!

"Company faces boycott!"

Silver Shamrock Novelties Co. is no stranger to controversy. But has the Santa Mira, California-based company gone too far this year?

Established by the late Conal Cochran in the early 70s, Silver Shamrock Novelties has been the leading manufacturer in top-quality Halloween masks since 1988. The company introduced their first line of masks, however, in 1982, but came under fire that year when the product was linked to the deaths of over two thousand children who used the masks. Silver Shamrock's lawyers attributed the deaths to a mix of chemicals used in the latex that they claim reacted with the skin and caused a deathly allergic reaction in most users.

Millions of dollars in settlements over the next few years nearly bankrupted the company, and caused them to discontinue masks for over half a decade. Despite the rocky start, Silver Shamrock masks have sold well since their introduction into the public. But the company may have gotten themselves into some even hotter water this year with the latest addition to their Halloween line, which has previously included pumpkins, witches, and skeletons.

In August last year, Silver Shamrock announced they would be producing, in addition to their original lineup of Pumpkin, Witch, and Skeleton, and alongside new designs such as Ghost and Goblin, a Halloween mask that had been discontinued in the late eighties after it became associated with the perpetrator of a series of mass murders that had begun in 1978 and continued through the late nineties, Michael Audrey Myers.

Michael Myers, who was a resident of the small Illinois town of Haddonfield until 1963 when he murdered his older sister, had been incarcerated for fifteen years at a mental institution until his escape on October 30th, 1978. Myers proceeded to kill more than thirteen people over the next twenty-four hours before finally being recaptured after nearly dying in a fire and slipping into a coma for a decade. Myers escaped confinement in 1988 and remained on the loose for nearly fifteen years before finally being killed in 2002.

While committing the murders, Myers wore a white Halloween mask that, in response to his association with it, was discontinued and had not been manufactured since 1999.

Haddonfield residents are concerned that, despite being told that Myers was dead, the mask may influence a string of delinquent mischief makers or, as Haddonfield High School Principal Robert Shaye believes, a copycat killer.

Said Shaye: "I do not approve of these Silver Shamrock masks, at least the Myers mask. I'm sure that a lot of parents in the community will agree with me that we don't want out kids to go through the same trauma that most of us adults went through at their age."

Some of the town's younger denizens don't look at it that way. Most of them are indifferent, or don't even know who Myers was or why this is such a big issue.

"It's just a mask," says sixteen-year-old Kayla Steed. "If Myers is really dead, then why are so many people worried about a stupid piece of rubber?"

Despite the controversy, Silver Shamrock is selling the new Halloween Masks all across America. The masks are available in a multitude of colors and have been tested to meet consumer standards.

"We are doing everything within our power to prevent a repeat of the '82 incident," said a Silver Shamrock representative.

Regarding the controversy surrounding the Michael Myers mask, the representative simply stated that it is "…strictly a novelty and is intended to be used for fun."

Haddonfield's police department sheriff did not return calls for a comment as of press time.

"Haddonfield's police department sheriff did not return calls for a comment as of press time," Carrie mouthed as she finished the article. "Sounds like this Silver Shamrock Company is painting a target on the back of their head."

"Huh, what?" Joe said. He quickly examined the article his daughter was talking about and scoffed.

"What?"

"People these days," he said. "Getting so riled up over a Halloween mask; it's completely pointless."

"You don't sound very concerned, dad." Carrie said as she bit into her bagel. Her father looked at her over his coffee. "I figured after mom, you would have a different opinion."

"That's because I'm not," he said sternly. "A mask didn't kill your mom; a man in a mask killed your mom. Do they stop making hockey masks because there's an asshole up in New Jersey who uses one? Nope, and it's the same thing here."

Silence overtook them for a moment.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Carrie had a knack for reading people, and her father's face at that moment just screamed that he had something to get off his chest.

She was wrong.

"No, Carrie, there isn't," Joe said. "Michael Myers killed your mom. And he's dead now. Has been for ten years. There's nothing to worry about."

Carrie was about to counter, but her phone began to vibrate. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the text message; it was Travis.

"Sorry, dad but I got to go. Travis is outside," she explained. She grabbed her purse and book bag off the kitchen table before running out into the long entrance hall. Halfway out she immediately stopped, skidded to a halt, turned around, and called bye to her dad in the kitchen.

"Bye, baby," he called back. But by then, the door had closed fast and the mechanical lock was heard tumbling.

Outside, Carrie ran across the lawn towards Travis' waiting Ford F-250. Travis was idling buy the curb and had the passenger door already open so Carrie could just hop in. It took more than a hop for Carrie to get in the cab; she needed a step stool just to reach the running boards. The moment she got in and closed the door, Travis put his foot on the gas and accelerated away.

"So what took so long?" He asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Carrie joked as she leaned over and kissed Travis on the cheek.

7:35 A.M.

The song started off softly, the guitars playing each note in a beautiful progression before slamming into heavy metal chords joined by a hammering drum track and, before too long, the loud, beautiful voice of Maria Brink joined in.

_Silent night, let me sleep away these memories within  
Sacrifices of purities are turning into sins  
And this judgment day is growing near  
Part of this confession is killing me again  
This beautiful tragedyyyyyyyyyyy_

_Is crashing into meeeeeeeeeeeee  
This dying destinyyyyyyyyyyyyyy_

Emily Howser was a huge fan of "In This Moment." Her favorite song was, of course, "Beautiful Tragedy," mainly because she thought that it described her perfectly. She could listen to the song over and over again and never get tired of it. She even sang it in the shower, like she was doing right now. She sang along with all the words as her iPod played the song at full volume, hitting every note perfectly. Anybody who had heard Emily sing realized that she had a natural talent for it, but Emily always claimed she had too little time on her hands to fully pursue a singing career.

This morning, a Tuesday, had been off to a slow, monotonous start so far. She had waited up for her nearly-always wasted mother to return from the bar at two thirty, as she always did, and then helped her into the shower to wash off the nauseating combination of various liquors, cigarette smoke, and the stench of whatever man had taken full advantage of her that night before dropping her back off at her front door. Emily did this because, otherwise, that smell would keep her up all night long.

Emily longed for her dad to come home. He had been stationed in Iraq for over a year, and she missed him intensely. She could never tell if her mother, the drunken slut, missed him because she was always too busy screaming for whatever guy she was with each night to fill her up. Emily hadn't heard her talk about her dad in months, and constantly wondered why they were still married. And then it had dawned on her that whenever her father was home, his wife was always the perfect little angel, second only to the angel he had fathered with the lying, cheating bitch.

Emily had short, shoulder-length brown hair and was unusually short for sixteen. But she had a smile that would make any man melt for her, even if she did have braces. She had deep-set emerald eyes that stood out in stark contrast to her pale, alabaster skin. The only flaw about her, at least as far as most guys were concerned: she also had small breasts. The other kids at school usually made fun of her for it, but she didn't really care.

Now, Emily wrapped a towel around her as she stepped out of the shower. She crept into the hallway so as not to wake her bitch of a mother. Tiptoeing back to her room, Emily threw on a lime-green shirt and a pair of blue jeans before glancing out the window for her ride. Not seeing anything, she walked over to the door peeked her head out. She glanced at her mom's bedroom and saw she was still asleep. Now was her chance. She snuck downstairs to the liquor cabinet, which was actually supposed to be the walk-in pantry, and began her raid. She made multiple trips from the pantry to the front door, where she stacked everything she grabbed, which included, but was not limited to, several sixers each of Smirnoff and Bacardi, four twenty-fours of Budweiser, a large can of Miller High Life, a large, brand new bottle of Captain Morgan's, and an unlabeled bottle with a few shots of what smelled like 150 proof vodka still trapped in the bottom, into a single stack.

Leaning against the doorframe, she picked up the mystery bottle and swirled it around observantly, then opened the lid. _No harm in setting your throat aflame with liquid fire before school, is there?_ Emily asked as she took a sip

"Ugh," she groaned as the "liquid fire" cascaded its way down her throat lining. She ran upstairs to her room and rummaged through her dresser, overturning several pairs of her panties to find her flask, a sweet little souvenir from an "Avenged Sevenfold" concert she had attended with her cousin. She poured the vodka into the flask, which she stuck in her front pocket.

About that time, Emily saw through her window a white F-250 pull up in the street. Carrie got out of the passengers door and went into her yard, guiding Travis back to the house's front door, where the beer was waiting on the other side of a few inches of paneled oak.

Emily rushed downstairs to the door and unlocked it. Carrie stood with her hands tucked into her pockets at the door, Travis' truck bed ready to receive its precious, flammable cargo.

"What took you guys so long?" Emily asked as she tossed a case of Bud into Carrie's arms.

"Less talking, more tossing," Travis said as he shut off the ignition and took the Bud from Carrie.

When all the alcohol was loaded, Carrie slammed the tailgate and the bed cover while Emily locked up the house and climbed into the cab of the truck. Carrie followed her and shut the door as Travis peeled out on the lawn and into the street.

"Are we going to be able to make it to Tower Farm and back in time for school?" Emily asked.

"We should be able to," Travis said. "Especially if we take Highway 31."

"Well I've held up my end," Emily said. "Now we just got to wait and see if Slater holds up his end. If he does, then we are all set for Wednesday night!"

"God, this is going to be so fucking awesome!" Emily shouted.

"Really excited about this, aren't you?" Carrie asked.

"Of course I am," Emily said enthusiastically. "This is going to be my first time holding a Halloween party!"

Emily let out a squeal of excitement, which Travis just ignored as he put his foot on the gas.


	3. Chapter 2: A Typical Day

Chapter 2

A Typical Day

Smith's Grove-Warren County Sanitarium

7:56 A.M

Jason Loomis sat in the waiting room of Smith's Grove Sanitarium for what felt like decades. He sat patiently in the lobby chair near the front desk where a more-than-vaguely attractive nurse occasionally looked up from her desk work to ogle at Jason's tall frame.

Jason couldn't attribute anything to his youthful appearance. In fact, everything he had been through in the last ten years alone should have made him look even older than his grandfather, the late, great Samuel Loomis, not the thirty-one-year-old that he was.

Jason had few memories of his grandfather, but he had them. One of the happier ones was when his grandfather told him the story of a bogyman that he had been hunting for years. Jason knew these stories to be true, but he opted instead not to follow his father and grandfather's profession and became a police officer. However, it was that moment when he faced off against Myers ten years ago that caused him to change his mind. He wanted to know what made Myers tick. Maybe he could succeed where his father and grandfather had failed.

After reading about Myers' case from his father and grandfather's personal notes, Jason began studying and, upon acquiring a Master's degree, was immediately hired at Smith's Grove-Warren County Sanitarium, moved to a house and assigned Michael Myers as his first patient. Sara Moyer was his second.

Myers was a stranger case than his grandfather ever let on. There were occasions when Myers would be active, moving around the room and staring at certain spots, as if observing for a weakness. Sometimes he did nothing at all. He just stared out his window into the world beyond. The view was warped due to the six inch thick bulletproof glass used to keep Michael inside the specialized room, but he still stared.

Loomis could recall one particular incident during his first year where he tried to interview Myers. He had Myers chained to a chair on the opposite side of the table and a tape recorder on the table. Loomis then tried to elicit a response from Myers, who gave none except for a blank stare through the long shaggy strands of brown hair. After ten minutes of no response, Loomis finally shut off the recorder.

Sara, on the other hand, just needed some personal care and attention. When Jason first met her, she was catatonic, lying on the hospital floor with a long and narrow hole in her breast, having just escaped Myers the second time that night. She was moved at Smith's Grove for therapy.

Myles, the boy she was with, had a punctured lung and required immediate surgery, but he was apparently fine because it wasn't two months later that he began regular visits to Sara at the asylum.

Not that Sara could comprehend them at first; she was mostly bottled up for the first few years. Jason once wondered if she was slowly becoming more like Myers.

But Sara slowly came back to the world and became more interactive as time went on. She eventually began speaking again and smiled for the first time since that night.

She had to grow her hair long, however, because she still had phobias of sharp objects and dark places. In fact, there were several phobias she now faced after her trauma. Technically, she was free to go nearly two years ago, but elected to stay for more therapy to treat them. Now arrangements were being made for her to be released in a few days. Jason wished her the best of luck.

And Jason needed all the luck he could stand when he had his meeting with Dr. David Starks, the chief administrator at Smith's Grove Sanitarium since 1996. For the last hour, Dr. Starks had been meeting with the Administration Board regarding further treatment of Michael Myers.

Jason wondered why they didn't just execute Myers flat-out. He had killed over one-hundred people over the course of forty years and didn't deserve the life he had been given. But that decision was, ultimately, not his.

Impatient, Jason picked up an outdated _TIME_ magazine and skimmed through it a dozen times. By the time Loomis heard the clicking of an opening door, he practically had every word in every article memorized. He set the magazine down and glanced down the hall where the board room was located. From Jason's perspective, it seemed as if the seven board members and David didn't so much as exit the room but emerged from the wall itself.

After several long seconds of final handshakes, the seven people disbanded in different directions. Loomis faintly amused himself watching the oldest man make a pass at the pretty young desk nurse, who responded with a seductive wink. She had to be in her late twenties and he couldn't be younger that sixty!

"Dr. Loomis!" called the nurse as David made a sharp turn down a hallway off to the side of the desk. "Dr. Starks will see you now." Jason took one last look down at the cover of the magazine before tossing it into the empty seat next to him. He stood up and headed over to David's office.

Jason wasn't too surprised with David's choice of office decorations. The wall behind David's desk was covered in newspaper clippings, the oldest dating back to 1978. Most of the clippings had oxidized and turned yellow or yellow-ish. A few recent ones were still pearly white while some had an off white-ish color to them, early signs of oxidization.

David sat down behind the desk as Jason stood with the cane in his hand, staring into David's eyes with hatred. Jason knew the outcome of the meeting before any words were spoken.

"How are you doing, David?" Loomis began smiling, but the anger in his voice was clear. He knew what was coming.

"Loomis, don't get angry with me," David began. "I tried telling them that-"

"Save your goddamned bullshit, David!" Jason yelled as he let David have it. "Don't tell me you 'fought them tooth and nail' to keep Myers in Max-Sec! That shit don't fly!"

"I know, Loomis." David opened a desk drawer and pulled out a lighter and a pack of Marlboro Lights. "Good God, do I know. But the board wants him moved to the Min-Sec wing tonight." David finished his sentence by lighting a cigarette.

"Why is he incarcerated to begin with?!" Jason screamed. "Why hasn't he been put on trial for those murders?"

"Because he's criminally insane," David said. "It'd be like executing a mentally retarded man for licking the window of a convenience store! Just because the average person should know better doesn't mean we have to punish a mentally incompetent person for doing it!"

"Myers is not mentally incompetent!" Jason screamed "He has escaped this building more times than I care to count; he has eluded capture for more than twenty years; and he has the blood of nearly a hundred different people on his hands! Not to mention that incident at Langley! Thirteen federal agents, David! Thirteen, in seven minutes and twenty-four seconds! Even the jury from the Casey Anthony trial would bring the hammer down on this bastard!"

"And what would that accomplish, Jason?" David asked.

"If there's any justice in the world, it's going to end with the death of Michael Myers, either by gas or lethal injection! Or decapitation or hanging! Hell, there doesn't even have to be a trial! Just do it the old fashioned way; take him out behind the woodshed and give him the double-tap!"

"Loomis, he's insane," David said. "My predecessor Terrance Wynn lost his own life to that bastard seventeen years ago. I'm telling you Michael can't be dealt with. He can't be bargained or reasoned with. He feels no emotions like pity or remorse. He's like the fucking Terminator!"

Loomis stood up and stared David down. He lowered his voice. Slightly. "And what if he escapes again, huh?! What then?!" Jason finally lowered his voice. "Several families' lives have been ruined since he first escaped here. And if he escapes again, dozens, maybe hundreds, more will feel that same terror and pain."

Jason turned and opened the door. As he left, he called over his shoulder: "I don't know what story you guys told the public, but I do know that they won't be pleased if he escapes again. How many more deaths can your conscience stand, David?"

Despite being 8:00 in the morning, Haddonfield High School was already buzzing with activity. Nearly everyone was discussing the events of the weekend and planning what to do for the days ahead, most of them involving the party Carrie and her friends were planning for Wednesday night.

Travis parked his truck in its usual spot near the school cafeteria, away from the main building. So they wouldn't get busted at school with it Travis had taken the beer and stored it at the long-abandoned Tower Farm where the party was to take place on Wednesday.

Travis stepped out of the driver's side door and leaned against the front of his truck, looking at his watch. Slater should have called him by now.

Carrie walked around to Travis and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, to which Emily made a too-convincing gagging sound.

"Don't be waiting too long," Carrie said. "Get one more 'tardy' and it's a detention from Mrs. Woodrow, mister."

"Will do," Travis smiled as Carrie walked off with Emily. Almost the moment she left, Slater pulled up in his beaten-up Lincoln Mercury.

Marshall "Slater" Roberts. Everyone called him Slater because when he was stoned (which was a common occurrence), he always said, "See you later," as "Slater." Marshall smoked and sold the best drugs local money could buy. But his attention was on something other than drugs for a change: tomorrow's Halloween party that was rapidly approaching, after all.

"So Slater," Travis said. "Did you come through for us?" Travis jokingly punched Slater in the elbow as he got out of the clunker.

"I have five kegs of the finest homebrew at your disposal, boyo!" Slater said with a mock-Irish accent and an equally-mocking bow. Travis laughed and put Slater in a loose headlock as they made their way to the building.

Meanwhile, Carrie and Emily were way ahead of them. The two opened the front door and made their way across the main lobby, where students were still milling about before class.

"So are you and Travis going to…" Emily began before being cut off with an elbow to the gut by Carrie.

"Shut up, bitch!" Carrie said jokingly as they ascended the steps from the lower lobby to the upper section where lockers lay in the maze that the school called a hallway.

"Come on, Carrie. I know you and Travis still have your virginities intact," she said matter-of-factly. "Halloween is the perfect romantic night."

"You need to find a guy yourself. What about Stephen's friend, Karl?"

"No," she said with a small chuckle.

"That was rather quick. Mind elaborating," Carrie scrutinized.

"Karl's a great guy," Emily said. "He's helped me with my schoolwork so much that when I graduate, I'll owe him a huge thank you. But aside from when he's helping me in the library, I never hang out with him, and I barely know him."

"This party could be your chance to change that," Carrie suggested.

"There's that, yes, but also…" Emily pointed off to her right, where a short young boy had his back turned towards them, fumbling with the lock on his locker. Karl was standing somewhere around 5' 6", 196 lbs. His brown hair was long, but short enough to not be shaggy. He looked rather good in the tight black shirt and blue hoodie he wore.

A loud bang startled him and caused him to look up in their direction, but he wasn't looking at them. Instead, his attention was on a boy of remarkably larger stature, who was lowering his forearm away from the locker he had just banged with it. Next to him was a smaller boy, but equally intimidating. Karl looked at the boys through his square-rimmed glasses, backing against the locker he had been fiddling with. It seemed like Karl was about to lose more than his lunch money.

"That should be all the explanation you need. He's a sweet guy, but if he can't stand up for himself, what makes you think he can stand up for me?"

"Okay, you do have a point there," Carrie said. That was all the agreement Emily needed, as she began to walk away but was stopped by Carrie putting a hand on her shoulder, causing her to turn and face her friend. "So maybe he's not the perfect choice, but he has a heart of gold and that should be all that matters."

"Friend zone," Emily said flatly. "That's where I'm leaving him unless he can learn to defend himself."

"Oh well, I guess it's your loss then," Carrie said. "Hey, I got to get to Briggs' class. I can't be late for it again. Later, chica!"

With that, Carrie left Emily in the halls. Emily glanced in Karl's direction as a crowd devoured the nerd and the bullies. She took a deep breath and blew a wayward lock of hair out of her eye, only to have it come to rest back in the same spot. Unfortunately, before she saw what was to happen next, she turned and left.

Karl looked up at his two oppressors, sizing them up. He knew the odds were stacked against him, so he tried a tactic he had learned from numerous RPGs: diplomacy.

"Look," Karl said. "Can't we talk this out? You know I don't want to-"

Karl was either cut off or drowned out by what happened next as the taller of the two, Marcus Phelps, knocked Karl's books out of his hand, causing them to tumble loudly to the floor.

"Pick them up, bitch," Marcus said.

Neither of the bullies knew what hit them.

Karl's palm struck the shorter one in the nose, which began cascading blood and he collapsed to the floor while Karl karate-chopped Phelps in the jugular vein, bringing him to his knees. Karl then grabbed the back of Marcus' neck and started kneeing him in the face.

The other guy was on the ground, bleeding and moaning to himself in pain. Karl dropped Marcus to the ground next to his buddy. Marcus attempted to stand, but fell backwards just as Karl pulled up his left leg and then let it drop into the face of Marcus' friend, cracking his nose none to silently.

Turning back to Marcus, Karl lifted Phelps' head and slammed it into the floor. Blood spewed all over the floor, along with several teeth, both chipped and whole. Karl then picked up Marcus and pile-drove him into a nearby locker, causing Phelps to spit up even more blood and teeth, along with a small spattering of what may have been vomit.

"Don't... ever... call me... a bitch... again, cocksucker!" Karl shouted as he rammed Phelps' head into the wall to punctuate his sentence before allowing him the mercy of falling to the ground. Karl then reared back his steel-toe boots and aimed for Phelps' balls.

The walls shook with Phelps' squeals of pain; the bully stayed on the ground, not even bothering to salvage enough dignity to get up and walk away with what little remained of his pride. Karl turned to one of the nearby onlookers and held out a hand, into which the teen dropped Karl's glasses. Karl put them on and stepped onto Phelps' back side, boosting himself enough to grab the items on the top shelf of his locker before stepping down, going out of his way to step on Marcus' head.

Karl turned to see the Principal Shaye approach him. "Excuse me, but what in God's good name is going on here!?"

Karl just nodded towards Phelps and strode off into the crowd. By now, Phelps' balls had healed enough for him to get up. Still, he required help from his cronies.

"You'll pay for this, Karl. You little SHIT! YOU'RE DEAD! FUCKING DEAD!" he screamed as his friends dragged him away. The principal swiftly followed, screaming after him, "Detention, Mr. Phelps!"

Meanwhile, Karl leaned against another row of lockers in another part of the hallway. He leaned back on one side of an open door and a head peeked out from the other side and looked at Karl. It was Stephen Strode.

Stephen was sixteen, almost seventeen, and, like Karl, in his junior year of high school. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and a smooth face that made him look child-like despite his age.

"Stephen," Karl spoke. "On a scale of one to ten, what would you rate today's beat down?"

"Uh, you get a ten for brutality, but you lose points for lack of style," Stephen said.

"Funny, man," Karl shot. Stephen laughed.

"You do realize that you're on Marcus' list now, right?" Stephen asked. "He's going to be looking for payback."

"Fuck that clown," Karl said. "I kicked his ass once, I can do it again."

"I still don't get it, Karl," Stephen said chuckling. "You putting on a show like that, how are you still a virgin?"

"No idea. Probably the same reason you are," Karl countered. "Do you know how much pussy you could get if you showed off that scar?"

Stephen shook his head. "I'm pretty sure nobody wants to see that hideous thing."

"You would be wrong, my friend," Karl said. "Women love scars; it makes them sympathetic."

"Thank you for the advice," Stephen said sarcastically.

"So are we still on for Wednesday night?" Karl asked.

"Oh, hell yeah, man," Stephen whooped. "That party is going to fucking rock!"

"What party?"

Karl and Stephen jumped and turned to see Amber Foster standing behind them. Who knew how long she had been standing there before she spoke up.

Amber was slightly younger than Stephen. She was 5'7" and 135 lbs. She also had beautifully long red hair down to her mid-back.

"Hey, Amber," Stephen said after recovering from his momentary shock. "How's life?"

"The same as it was yesterday when you asked me," Amber said rather annoyed. "Are you two planning on going to the Tower Farm party?"

"No," Stephen lied. "I'd never do a thing like that."

"Bullshit," Karl laughed.

"Mind if I go?" Amber inquired.

"You actually want to go?" Karl asked sounding shocked. "But your dad's a deputy. Won't you get in trouble if the cops bust it and find you?"

"Of course," Amber said. "But we won't get busted, will we?"

"No, I guess not." Stephen said nervously. "We'll get you at six-thirty."

"Alright," Amber said. She then strolled off to her first hour class. She looked back at them once and winked at Stephen. "See you then," she added before walking off.

Karl looked at Stephen, who was absentmindedly staring at Amber's well-formed…

"Asshole!"

Stephen looked over at Karl, who then pretended he was coughing. Stephen reached into his locker and pulled out a 500+ page thick Algebra book, and bonked his friend on the head with it, causing Karl to explode with laughter to keep from shouting in pain.

"Keep the snide comments to yourself, Karl." Stephen shoved one of two English books from his locker into Karl's hands and closed his locker.

"Will do, man," Karl said. "Now let's get to English before Principal Shaye catches us in the halls." Karl hustled down the hall to Algebra just as the second bell rang.

Stephen was left in the hallway to gather up the last of his books.

"So, what are your plans for tonight?" asked a female voice from behind him. Stephen jumped at the voice, startled because he did not expect anybody to still be in the hall.

"Hey, Carrie," Stephen said when he finally managed to calm his rapid heartbeat. "Aren't you gonna be late for Briggs' class again?"

"Briggs isn't here today, it turns out. There's a sub, so I'm on my way to the library for the hour."

"Excellent," Stephen said. "It means that I won't have to put up with his droning on and on during fifth period. Why do you ask if I have plans tonight?"

"It's your birthday, remember?" Carrie laughed as the pair began walking down the hallway. "You're seventeen, now! And you know what I'm gonna do for your birthday?"

"I have no idea," Stephen admitted.

"I'm gonna get you drunk," Carrie stated matter-of-factly.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Stephen asked. "Stick a pretty blue ribbon on a bottle of rum, show up on my doorstep, and say, 'Happy Birthday!' Yeah, that'll go over _real_ well with my parents."

"Then I'll just have to make Amber sneak into your bedroom with it and-"

"Alright, that's quite enough," Stephen said. "Look, I really appreciate the effort, Carrie, but I think I'll just stick to this little Halloween party of yours tomorrow night, and call it a birthday party, instead. Alright?"

"Well, if you insist," Carrie laughed, feigning sadness. "Oh, here's my stop. I'll see you later!"

Carrie veered off into the library as Stephen continued on, shaking his head with a smile on his face.


	4. Chapter 3: The Mall

Chapter 3

The Mall

Haddonfield, Illinois

3:45 P.M.

Stephen turned back to his Pontiac Solstice as he walked up the steps to his house and locked the car with the electric key he had in one hand. In his other was his school bag, filled with useless papers and even more useless books filled with a bunch of information Stephen would never need in real life, like how knowing the outcome of the Battle of Thermopylae was going to help him climb a ladder to get the box off the top shelf.

Stephen turned back to his house and flipped the key ring around in his hand to find the house key. It had taken all of three years for Stephen to convince his parents, Kara and Tommy, to let him have his own key to the house. It wasn't that they didn't recognize his independence as a budding young adult; that had been established when he took a job at the bookstore in the mall and began paying for his own cell phone and gas when he finally got his car. It was the fact that Stephen's parents were, for some reason, super paranoid about Stephen going anywhere alone; i.e. without either Kara or Tommy. Stephen could have been in a room with twenty of his closest friends with no way in or out; he only would have been safe if either Tommy or Kara was with him.

But it wasn't limited to just Stephen; they had been just as paranoid with his older brother, Danny, as well. They wouldn't let Danny out of the house for nothing except school, or to go get milk, until he turned nineteen. But for some reason, Danny had been more willing to obey these rules than Stephen had. Hell, even now, Danny still rarely left the house, despite being twenty-three years old. But Danny's situation was less of a "failure-to-launch" type ordeal than a "I have a car, a steady job, and I'm shit-stinking rich because I don't have to pay rent." Danny had a small fortune stashed somewhere in the house from a job that Stephen had always joked seemed to be a family business: realty.

Their mother had inherited the family business, Strode Realty, from Kara's uncle Chester. Chester's brother, John, owned half of the business, while Chester owned the other half. When John had died, the day after Stephen's birthday, ironically, Mason then owned the entire company. Since Kara was the last living relative he had when he died, having lost his adopted daughter and Kara's cousin Laurie in a car wreck, Kara inherited the business and had been running it ever since.

And now, Danny was being groomed to take it over, though Stephen had always consented to let him have it. The housing market never interested him.

Stephen opened the door, and paused. The smell of frying pepper-bacon filled his nostrils, along with the oh-so delicious sound of the accompanying sizzle. Danny was the only person in this house that cooked pepper-bacon. And he only cooked it when it was just him and Steven. And that meant one thing: their parents were gone.

Meanwhile, Danny, with the skill of a Food Network pro, was rushing between a griddle full of pancakes and the pan full of frying bacon.

"Hey, bro," Danny said as his brother ran into the kitchen and reached onto the grill, grabbing two slices of bacon and downing them before Danny had a chance to react.

"Where are mom and dad?" Stephen asked.

"Gone," Danny said. "Mom went to go appraise a few houses in Chicago and dad went with him. They won't be back for a couple days."

Danny was in his early twenties. His hair was short and spikey, and his face was oblong with a short beard. He had been taking care of Stephen alongside his parents, who were currently out of town. Danny was cooking eggs and bacon for Stephen. Danny was an excellent cook. He started learning when he was twelve and had developed a way to tell when a steak was done just by looking at it.

Stephen's house was massive. The kitchen and dining room were essentially one giant room, and the only thing dividing them from the living room was a long kitchen island/bar, where underneath was stored a mini-fridge in addition to the full-sized refrigerator/freezer near the back door.

Stephen sat down at the bar/kitchen island and grabbed the TV remote. He flicked on the TV, which was currently tuned into a news station doing a report on a set of controversial Halloween Masks.

Reporter: "…And in other news, Silver Shamrock has announced that it will discontinue the manufacturing of one the controversial Halloween masks that was a part of its recent line of Halloween novelties. The mask is a replica of one that was repeatedly used by notorious mass murderer, Michael Myers, who was killed by police on Halloween night in 2002."

Danny perked up at the sound of Michael's name. Stephen looked at his brother, who looked like he was frozen in fear as the reporter continued.

"Silver Shamrock representatives have said that although the mask will be discontinued in the future and will issue an immediate recall on all unsold products, it will be unable to do so for at least 48 hours..."

"Daniel!" Stephen shouted. Danny looked at his brother and mumbled something as he turned off the TV. "Yeah, bro?"

"What's up? You look like you just saw a ghost, dude," Stephen said.

"Oh, it's nothing," Danny said. "Just something about the news report; it stirred up some bad memories."

"Bad, like how?" Stephen asked as he tore into a pile of thick-sliced pepper bacon, annihilating about one-quarter of it before Danny spoke again.

"Don't worry about it, Stephen," Danny said. "It happened a long time ago, and I'm completely over it." With that, Danny walked through the backdoor of the kitchen and into the garage.

"You can't tell me what it is?" Stephen asked. "Danny!"

"I'll tell you later, dude," Danny said as he walked back inside with a pack of steaks, which he would soon place in a bag of marinade for their dinner the next night.

Stephen just then noticed a large brown paper sack on the table. The bag had been wrapped around the contents of the bag, forming it to the shape of the bottle contained within.

"Hey, Danny!" Stephen shouted. "Where did this bag on the table come from?"

"Oh, your friend Carrie brought it over! Said it was a birthday present! She also wants to know if she, Travis, and Emily can come over and hang out with us tonight!"

Stephen reached for the bag and removed the paper wrapper. It was a bottle of Captain Morgan's Rum. Wrapped around the neck of the glass bottle near the cap was a very ornate blue ribbon.

"Yeah, I'll give them a call later." Stephen said as he laughed silently at the bottle.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

A knock at the door startled Stephen.

"Who locked the damn door?" said a voice from outside.

"Whose outside, dude?" Danny asked.

"It's Karl," Stephen said as he put the bottle down and rushed for the door. Danny shook his head and went upstairs to change. He'd tell him later, if he got a chance.

Karl walked inside followed closely by Amber. Karl was wearing a black and silver "HALO 3: ODST" t-shirt and long-legged blue jeans.

Amber's hair was held in place by a black hair barrette. Her hair was down to her shoulder and she wore a pink jacket over a white shirt. She had on a black pair of what Danny often referred to as hooker boots. Stephen nearly got a chubby just looking at her.

"What's up?" Stephen asked.

"We came over to hang out." Karl said. "Wanted to know if you wanted to go do something tonight?"

"Well, I got s bottle of rum in the kitchen," Stephen suggested.

"No," Amber said. "We meant right now. My dad is going to be out on patrol today and tomorrow, so I need something to do."

"Oh," Stephen said as he led his friends into the kitchen. Danny looked up and stared at the two newcomers.

"Hey, Danny, it's cool of they hang out tomorrow, right?"

"Guess I got to grab two more steaks," Danny said as he walked back into the garage.

"Great! So what the hell are we supposed to do all day?" Stephen asked as they all leaned against the island countertop.

"Let's go to the mall," Amber suggested.

"That's not a bad idea," Stephen said. "Do you guys have costumes picked out for the part on tomorrow night?"

"I did, but my goddamn dog got a hold of it, so I got to go buy another mask," Karl said.

"Alrighty, then," Stephen said. "We're going to the mall."

"Hey," Danny called form the garage. "Grab some candy while you're there!" He emerged a few seconds later and tossed the frozen steaks on the counter so he could dig into his pocket to grab his wallet. "Grab three bags, big bags, of the assorted shit." Danny handed Stephen a twenty, who then seemed to be out the door as soon as it touched his hand.

"Remember last year when we ran out at six-thirty?"

"And mom pitched a hissy fit because you were eating all the Snickers Bars? I remember, Dan! I got an earful, too, for taking all the Reese's cups!

"Bye, bro!" Stephen shouted as the door closed behind them.

The ride to the mall was a smooth one. Karl drove his Camero through the streets of Haddonfield, which were packed with an unusual amount of Wednesday morning traffic. In the shotgun seat, Stephen hung his arm out the window and began moving it up and down in a wave-motion in the wind. He was also making jet-noises with his mouth, which Amber seemed to get a kick out of.

Haddonfield Mall was one of the many public rejuvenation projects the City of Haddonfield had accomplished in the last decade or so, alongside the Haddonfield Community College, the massive campus of which was a few miles up the road. The mall itself was quite large, especially for a town the size of Haddonfield. It was two stories tall and about fifty acres or so, not including the parking.

When they got to the mall parking lot, Karl was searching for a spot to park for what seemed like hours before finally pulling in besides a white Ford F-250.

"Hey, isn't this Travis Ross' truck?" Karl asked.

"I do believe it is," Stephen said. "I know Carrie's with him. And you know that wherever Carrie goes, Emily always goes too."

"Don't start, Stevie," Karl shot back.

"Ooh, testy," Amber cooed.

"Why haven't you asked her out already?" Stephen asked.

"I have, actually," Karl said. "It turns out that Emily is one of those preppy bitches who only go for the brain-dead football dicks," he added harshly.

Without another word, he opened the door of the '76 Camero. The door banged into Travis' pick-up. Looking from Karl to the scratched door, Stephen quipped, "You're going to have to pay for that, too."

Karl blew off the remark as he flipped his seat forward to let out Amber while Stephen crawled out the passenger's side door.

"Come on, Karl," Stephen said. "We all know you only pull that tough muscle-man bullshit when Emily's around!

Karl responded by giving Stephen a very special bird.

"This is perfect, Emily!"

Carrie was holding a bleeding Ghostface mask in her hands while Emily perused the shelf items, clearly looking for something specific. "Come on, Emily. If they don't have it, we can go to the one in Russellville and be back well before the party starts."

"Oh, they have it. I hid it back here last time I came in. I hid it too well, I guess. _I_ can't even find it." Emily insisted.

Carrie rolled her eyes and walked over several aisles to find Travis pondering over which make-up to buy.

"Can't make up-your mind, big boy?" Carrie asked, putting her arms around Travis's waist. He responded by putting his hands on hers.

"Nope, not yet. I don't understand why man can build skyscrapers like the Empire State Building or the Eiffel Tower and I can't even find the right brand of make-up for my Joker costume."

"Well, hurry up. I want to get out of here, ideally with Emily. But at the rate she's going, Halloween, Thanksgiving _and_ Christmas will be over before she finds her costume." She let go of Travis and walked over one aisle where there were bags of Halloween candy stacked between displays of costume accessories and other assorted party goods.

She rounded a tower of Halloween candy and her eyes were caught by a tall figure standing at the back corner of the store. He wore a black set of coveralls and a white Halloween mask. He wasn't looking at her, but was instead staring down the costume aisle… where Emily was. This asshole had to be watching her.

The man turned to Carrie. A cold chill caused the hairs on her body to stand up, almost like electricity. She casually turned and walked slowly back down the aisle she had come down. About halfway down, she turned back; the man was standing at the end of the aisle. Carrie turned again and quickened her pace. She felt the man walking behind her and broke into a run. She turned and looked back again; the man was gaining on her.

Carrie was so frightened by the stalker that she didn't notice the person in front of her. She bumped into him hard, knocking both of them and two stacks of candy bags over.

"Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry!" she said rapidly as she looked behind her again; the man was gone.

"Hey, Carrie," Stephen said. "Fancy running into you here."

"Oh God, I am _so_ sorry, Stephen," Carrie apologized again. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Carrie," Stephen insisted.

"I am such a klutz," she said.

"Carrie, I said its fine," Stephen picked up the candy they knocked over and found the bags he had been carrying. "Why were you running?"

"There was this guy…" Carrie turned to point at him, but he was gone. "Never mind. Emily and I are hunting Halloween costumes for tomorrow night. What about you?"

"I came to get some candy for tomorrow," Stephen said. "Oh, thanks for the rum, by the way."

"You found it?" Carrie asked. "So does that mean we can come over tonight?"

"I guess" Stephen said. "Danny's already got steaks out for everyone, including you guys, so you're good."

"Sounds great," Carrie said. "Just make sure you and Amber don't have _too_ much fun. Lizzie's become a sort of cautionary whale when it comes to teen pregnancy."

"For the last time, Amber is not my-," Stephen started to say before he was cut off.

"Carrie, I found it!" Emily shouted. Carrie turned to see Emily holding a purple costume over her head triumphantly.

"That's my cue to exit," Carrie said exhausted. "I'll see you tonight, alright."

"Alright," Stephen said as Carrie walked off to join her friends. Stephen turned around, and did likewise. Neither of them noticed that the man who was following Carrie earlier had been standing off to the side, listening to the entire conversation…

Karl sat by himself in the food court, munching on a cinnamon pretzel while deciding whether to actually get some food, or wait until Amber and Stephen returned from the nether-regions of the mall. Two additional cinnamon pretzels sat on the table waiting because Stephen had told Karl to get one for each of them, but he and Amber had disappeared to… somewhere for some reason that Karl assumed involved heavy, _heavy_ flirting between the pair. And Karl wouldn't have put it past either of them to finally give in to the sexual tension that always seemed to hang in the air between the two of them. Not to say that Karl wasn't happy for Stephen. The boy needed to get laid something bad. But he didn't really like the idea of being the "Forever Alone" guy.

Maybe that's why his thoughts kept drifting back to Emily. He had been unfairly classified as "nerd" the moment he set foot in that high school, which may have been the reason why every girl in that school was out of his league. It wasn't until Karl made friends with Stephen and Amber that Karl's social life began changing, albeit slightly. Stephen introduced him to Travis, who Stephen played football with back in middle school. Then Travis started dating Carrie, and that was when Karl met Emily.

There was something about her that instantly attracted Karl to her. And it wasn't strictly physical, either. Karl always got a catch in his throat when Emily spoke to him. And it seemed that, no matter what, Karl could never get past the "casual acquaintances" stage. Sure, Karl had helped Emily out with more than a few tests throughout high school, but by now he had lost all hope of ever getting a real date with Emily.

Maybe it wasn't even worth trying anymore-

"Now, what are you doing here all by your lonesome?"

Karl turned at the voice, and saw Emily standing behind his table with about three shopping bags from different stores. "Where are the cowboy and his cowgirl?"

"Not a hundred percent sure, honestly," Karl said. "Where are Romeo and Juliet?"

"Same answer: not a fucking clue." Emily took the seat across from Karl and set her bags on the table. "They were with me when I left the party store, but when I went into F.Y.E., they ditched me and told me they'd meet me in the food court. And so, here I am, and where are they?"

"Looks like we're in the same boat," Karl said. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh," Emily gasped. "It's my Halloween costume." She pulled the bag up onto the table and pulled out a camo-style purple-and-black fairy costume. Still in the bag was a large, black toy assault rifle, orange-tipped barrel sticking out of the bag.

"I'm going as a fairy-soldier," Emily said proudly.

"An odd combination," Karl said. "Can I ask why?"

"To honor my dad," Emily said. "He always called me his angel-fairy when I was little. And one day, I plan on joining the military, just like him. I can see why he's been jumping at every opportunity to go on another tour of duty; if I had the choice, I wouldn't want to live with my mother, either." Emily let out a small chuckle, but stopped when she saw that Karl had become tense, his eyes narrowing and becoming focused on a single point.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked.

"Marcus Phelps…" Karl whispered. He pulled up one of the giant pretzels sitting at the table up to his face just as Emily turned around. Sure enough, Phelps was standing at the counter of Subway. His face resembled raw hamburger meat and when he took a step forward, he limped and seemed to move gingerly. There was a cut on his forehead that seemed to be seeping with amber-colored pus. Karl didn't remove the pretzel from his face until he was positive Phelps was gone, and even then seemed hesitant to remove it.

"What was that all about?" Emily asked.

"Marcus isn't too happy to see me, it seems."

"Why? It's not like you're the one who turned his face into a slab of raw beef." Emily laughed, but instantly stopped when she realized Karl wasn't. "Wait, was it you?"

Karl nodded once, the stone-solid look of seriousness not leaving his face.

"Oh my God, I didn't think you had it in you!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Karl intoned sarcastically.

"No, I'm serious," Emily gushed. "It's nice to know that you can stand up for yourself. Boy, that's a huge 'I told you so' I'm going to get from Carrie later."

"Do you want to hear what happened?"

"If it's an interesting story, then yes, I do."

"It is, but first I'm going to go get some food," Karl finally said. "Do you want something?"

"I don't have that much left-" Emily said.

"Don't worry, I got it," Karl reassured her. "Whatever you want."

"Well… How about you start by getting me a couple tacos and a milkshake?"

"Two tacos and a milkshake? An odd combination, but okay; I'll be right back." Karl got up from his seat and looked directly at Emily, who just smiled a big, goofy smile. Karl smiled back and turned back towards the counter.


	5. Chapter 4: The Man in Black

Chapter 4

The Man in Black

Smith's Grove Sanitarium

11:18 P.M.

Night always fell quickly at Smith's Grove Sanitarium. The sanitarium was located at the base of a hill which shrouded the halls in darkness after a certain hour of the day.

The main building was three stories tall and a whopping ten acres. The outer fences were eight feet tall, nine feet if one included the rolling barbed wire at the top. The gates were electrified and could only be opened by the lone guard shack that patrolled the only way in or out of the compound. At certain points along the perimeter fence, extremely bright flood lights illuminated the grounds between the fence and the building's outer brick wall. It was way too quiet. And at Smith's Grove, that always meant trouble was brewing...

The Man in Black stood at least fifty feet away from the outer fence. He wore a long black trench-coat that encircled his tall frame and halted just above his ankles. On his feet was a pair of pointed black boots with metal plates on the heels and steel caps on the toes that glistened when it caught the reflection of the floodlights. He wore black leather gloves and covered his head with a black fedora that was tilted so it hid his face. Sunglasses adorned his eyes and the collar was popped so that his neck was hidden. This man, whoever he was, was dressed for stealth.

He saw the station house guard let in a Jeep Cherokee that drove around the parking lot and parked close to the front door. A strapping young man stepped out of the vehicle and made his way to the front door. He walked inside and disappeared from the Man's view.

The Man turned his attention back to the Station House Guard, who was now leaning his head on his hand and seemed to be resting his eyes. The Man had a decision to make: sneak past the guard and let live an innocent man who probably had an extremely good life, lived with a wife who loved and cared for him, took good care of his kids, worked for next to nothing to provide a decent living for that family; or he could rob them of that guiding light in their life in a fraction of a second by snuffing out this man's life. In an instant, he made his decision and rushed towards the guard shack.

Martin Crowe was the guard on duty at the front gate. As usual, there was nothing exciting about working the graveyard shift, except for the fact that he always had the shack to himself, meaning he was his own boss.

The sound of tires on gravel reached his ears before he saw the headlights crest the hill. The car, what looked like a Jeep Cherokee, drove up to the front gate and slowed to a stop. Martin opened his sliding glass window and looked into the driver's seat where a young, sharp-dressed man was staring back.

"Can I see some form of I.D.?" Martin asked. The young man pulled out his driver's license and handed it to Martin, who looked it over for a moment before handing it back. "Through the gate, follow the arrows around the lot and park close to the door. Go inside and someone will help you shortly."

Martin closed the gate shortly after Myles drove through. He watched Myles get out of the car and disappear through the front door with the escort of another guard.

Martin turned his attention back to the book in his hands. He set his head down on his palm and continued reading. A flash of black crossed the corner of his eye. He looked up and gazed through the window. There was nothing except the darkness of the night.

"Someone out there?" Martin yelled. _Of course there's nobody out there,_ he said to himself. _There's never anybody out there, and if there was then they would be up to no good and of course wouldn't answer to "Someone out there?"_

Martin grabbed the shotgun hidden underneath the control panel and filled it full of .12 gauge birdshot.

"Fair warning," he shouted as he loaded the cartridges into the barrel. "I've got a .12 gauge Remington here that's fully loaded and I'm ready to unload it into someone's asshole!"

He walked out of the guard house and into the street, brandishing the gun in front of him. He did as 360 degree turn around, but saw nothing. He walked a bit further up the road with the gun poised against his shoulder.

"Last warning; I got a fully loaded Remington and an itchy trigger finger here, so do not FUCK with me!"

Behind him there was a flapping of fabric; he turned on his heels and brandished the shotgun. A shadow seemed to move into the empty guard shack. Martin pumped the shotgun and inched for the gate. He peered into the guard house and looked around. He moved towards the shadow and poked the Remington-

The shadow moved.

Before he could react, the "shadow" had emerged from the wall and grabbed the end of the barrel, swinging it out and loosening Martin' grip on the weapon. The Man in Black then swiped at the back of Martin' head and brought him to the ground. The Man then planted one knee firmly into Martin' back and placed both hands on the man's lower jaw. He gave a quick flick with his wrists and a satisfying crack filled the shack; the whole thing was over before a single groan ever escaped Martin' lips.

The Man in Black let out a heavy sigh; his plan to let this guard live was a bust. He had intended to sneak into the gate using stealth, but that proved impossible if the guard was going to go poking that Remington into people's guts. As it was, that was unfortunately not the case. He opened the gate and walked through up to and through the front doors unchallenged.

In the mess hall and blissfully unaware of what was unfolding at the front gate, a pretty young woman ate her dinner. The woman didn't wear the uniform of a guard, doctor, or nurse. In fact, she didn't work here at all: she was a patient. She was in her late twenties and, like most female patients here, had a long mane of brown hair that was nearly down to her buttocks, but it wasn't wild and unkempt like most; it was straight and well taken care of.

The woman's name was Sara Moyer. She had been here for nearly a decade (nine years, eleven months, and twenty-nine days, to be precise). And tonight, she was finally going home.

Sara didn't remember much about that night a decade ago. She remembered a shape in the darkness, and staring into its cold, hateful eyes. But that was all she remembered at first. With nearly a decade of therapy under her belt, she was beginning to remember more and more details, like the names of her friends who were with her that night, the incident at the hospital, and nearly dying on the cold floor of that hospital.

Right now, she was perfectly content eating her final meal in the halls of the asylum: a perfectly cooked 'medium-rare' steak with mashed potatoes and very watery gravy. There was also a small plate of homemade biscuits, which actually weren't too bad. She finished the potatoes and took a swig of the knock-off brand soda the cook had given her. What had the cook called it? Faygo?

At one end of the mess hall, the only security guard in the room stood and watched Sara eat her meal. His nametag identified him as Max.

Max's job was simple: guarding the doors. His supervisor had given him the keys before going home so he could escort Sara safely to the release center of the building. He had been informed that they were transferring a dangerous prisoner to minimum security for eventual release. He had heard the patient's name somewhere. What was it: Myers?

When Sara finished, she walked over to the trash can and dumped the remains of her dinner into the bag. She then walked over to Max and said, "Alright, Max. Let's get me outta here."

The maximum security ward was in a rare moment of complete silence. The guards in the control room at the end of the hall were chatting about baseball players and playing a game of Texas Hold-em which kept them awake during the long hours of the Graveyard shifts. Their poker chips of choice were a rather large collection of Chuck E. Cheese tokens. Not exactly regulation.

"Alright, Mateo, you're big blind," said one guard.

"Alright," agreed Mateo, a large African-American man as he tossed in three tokens.

"Fold," said the third, a scrawny doctor in a white scrubs.

"Wanna call, Luis?" asked Mateo.

Proudly, the Hispanic guard named Luis tossed in six tokens. "Raise, motherfuckers!"

"Shit, I'm backing out!" Rob shouted.

"I'll fold," Mateo said. The Doc shook his head.

Luis just smiled and tossed down a two and a three. Nothing

"Luis, you bluffing sack of shit!" Rob shouted at the first guard. Mateo just laughed as Luis raked in the tokens, grinning.

"Well we can finally do our thing now that Myers is in Minimum Security," said Rob. "Won't have to worry about him escaping and killing us," he said jokingly.

"I heard that," Mateo said in agreement.

"Hey, am I the only one who wants to get with that hot-ass nurse, Julie? I've seen how she looks at me." The Doc said.

"I would, but that is property of the guy who signs our paychecks: Starks." Rob said in reply.

"Oh well," Luis sighed. "Next round. Doc, you're big blind!"

Downstairs, David Starks sat at his desk. He was going over the paperwork on Michael's transfer, currently staring at the transfer report that had been dropped off at his desk a day before. A click distracted him from his work. He looked up to see Julie walk in through the door.

"Burning the midnight oil yet again, Dr. Starks?" Julie asked as she sat down on a clear spot on David's desk. She put one leg up on the desk, revealing a long, sexy leg with high heels. David didn't look up.

"I'm thinking about what Loomis said. Is moving Michael to minimum security really the stupidest thing I've ever done?"

"Well maybe you should relax and don't think about Myers. Don't look at what's behind you and look at what's in front of you. Like me, for instance…"

David looked up to see Julie undoing the top button on her shirt. She got off of the table and undid the next two buttons, revealing a black bra that was perhaps too small for her large chest.

She had David's full attention now. David stood up and followed Julie out the door. When he had left his office, he turned and locked the door just before Julie grabbed his hand and led him down the hall, giggling like a schoolgirl.

Sara waited on Max to unload her possessions from the locker. He placed her belongings in the cardboard box and checked off each item on a sheet of paper. Sara looked up through the glass partition. Myles was sitting quietly in a chair in the lobby, his mind preoccupied. He had his shirt lifted and was busy tracing an oblong scar on the left side of his chest, where the blade had skewered him to Sara.

That particular moment flashed into Sara's mind. She remembered Miles throwing himself before her as the blade tore through Miles' body and hers simultaneously. Subconsciously, Sara traced the spot on her right breast where the same blade had pierced her. When Max wasn't looking, she looked down into her shirt and ran a finger along the scar, which was just to the right of her nipple, and just as long as Myles', she assumed.

"Sara," Max said, startling her. "Here's your stuff. You want me to walk you two out?"

"Oh," Sara gasped. "No, we're fine." Sara grabbed the box and Max punched a button on the security console. The glass door opened and Sara ran for Myles. She dropped the box and jumped into Myles' arms. He swung her around in the air and Max let out a chuckle. He closed up the security office and went upstairs to join Mateo's poker game.

"Jesus Christ Sara," Myles said, not bothering to hide the excitement in his voice as he set Sara down. Her hair had grown extremely long. It was easily down to her hips now. "You look so beautiful!"

"I can't believe I'm finally going home," Sara said nearly tearful. Myles planted a kiss on Sara's lips. The two stood in the middle of the lobby, blissfully unaware of the shadow moving about in the darker corners of the room to a door marked "Employees only" and slipping in ever so quietly.

On the second floor of the asylum, the minimum security ward was unusually quiet. The last door on the right side of the hall was locked tight. Inside was a dark shadow at the far end of the room. The Shape sat on the edge of the bed while dark clouds gathered outside the window.

Somewhere downstairs in the control room, a black hand plunged a gleaming silver knife into a specific portion of the control panel; there was no way that they could manage the security doors without the console. That part of the job was done; the Man now came to the second part.

The black-gloved hand pulled out a large, steel machete from underneath the pitch black cloak. The hand that wielded the weapon cut it through the air and into an aluminum pipe on the wall that connected the fuse box to the lights, severing the wires inside. Seconds later, thunder rolled as the power went out in Smith's Grove Sanitarium.

Outside the floodlights dimmed and stayed that way for a moment before finally giving up the ghost and going out. The security doors were instantly rendered useless.

In maximum security, the three guards and the doctor were only interrupted from their game by the sudden loss of the lights. All three looked up and drew their guns. The Doctor said nothing, except whimpered.

In an unused room, David and Julie were in the middle of tantric sex when the lights went out. The two had simultaneous reactions to the lights going out.

Julie: "Oh, fuck me!"

David: "Oh, shit!"

Suddenly, emergency flood lights kicked in.

The guards looked up to see all of the doors were still shut. Mateo stood up and signaled for the other guards to check the doors. They crept down the hall and checked all the doors to make sure they were all still locked. Fortunately, the back-up generator kicked in quickly enough that all the high security doors remained locked. Feeling fortunate that some of the more dangerous patients were still in their monkey cages, they all went back to their game.

But the most dangerous patient of all wasn't in Maximum Security anymore.

The Man in Black stepped off the elevator that led to the Minimum Security floor. As he stepped onto the linoleum, metal plates in his boots gave a hollow clanging sound that became rhythmic as he stepped down the hallway. He came to the door he was looking for. The Man knew that disabling the security system would knock out all security-locked doors, but because they required so much power to keep their contents locked, the emergency generator only powered the Maximum Security doors. All others were not dangerous enough to be kept behind high powered locks and only required a sweeping security guard to keep all inmates on the second floor contained.

But he was upstairs playing poker.

The Shape did not move when it heard the clicking of the door. He did stand up, however, when the clinking of the Man in Black's boots hit the floor of the room. The Man approached the Shape and the Shape turned.

The Man looked over the top of his sunglasses and at the long-haired... monster that stood before him. 6'5" easy, the Shape was definitely an intimidating presence.

The Man reached into the length of his coat and pulled out a large, bloody kitchen knife. He tossed it on the bed. The Shape leaned over and picked up the knife, studying it for a moment before it took its rightful place in the Shape's right hand.

The Man reached back into his coat and pulled out something else that he also tossed onto the bed. The Shape put the knife down for a moment and picked up this other object, which was white in color and had a full head of brown hair glued to the top. The Shape unfolded the object and placed the white mask over his head. The Shape picked up the knife and the Man admired his creation.

"Your time has come, Michael."

The Shape took a step towards the Man. The Man did not flinch. The Shape stepped closer to the Man and stopped. The Shape stared at the Man and the Man stared back. The Man could see the cold heart of hate pumping away furiously in the Shape's eyes. The Shape looked into the Man's eyes and saw something... familiar. The Shape...

The Shape walked past the Man, leaving him untouched, and walked into the hallway. The Man slowly let out his breath, which he did not realize he had been holding.

David and Julie continued with their activities. The power remained off in the room they were using, so Julie had gotten a few candles and lit them in case the power decided to stay off. Even if they didn't come back, it still added a layer of romance to the whole thing.

"Oh God, David, I'm almost done!"

"I got about ten seconds before I blow, Jules!"

Seconds later, Julie stopped as they both reached their peak. She collapsed on top of him and gasped for breath. She began drawing circles on his chest with her finger.

"That was awesome, Julie. I feel seventeen again. Don't you?" he asked.

"I was seventeen a few years ago. So no, not yet," she said. They both chuckled at the joke.

David got up and put his pants on.

"Where are you going?" Julie asked.

"Nature calls, I got to answer."

With that, he left the room.

After leaving the bathroom moments later, David stopped by his office. He reached for his keys and was about to unlock the door when he realized it was already slightly open.

"That's strange," he commented.

He opened the door and flipped on the lights. He realized he didn't have emergency lights in his office, so he grabbed a nearby lantern and lit it. The bulb burned brightly. He lifted it up and shone it around the room. He glanced around his office. It was dark even with the lights in the hallway. He looked towards the wall.

"Ahhhh!" he screamed as his light bounced off something white on his wall staring at him. Then he laughed and kicked himself when he realized it was one of those Silver Shamrock Michael Myers' masks. He didn't know who put it there, but someone had done so as a sick and twisted Halloween prank.

"Goddamnit! Ah-hahahahahaha," he laughed.

The mask moved slightly.

His laughing slowed to a stop as he concentrated on the mask more. It moved again, up this time. Either his eyes were playing tricks or the mask was _coming towards him_.

Terror gripped David as he willed himself to move. His legs were cemented in place as a torso came into view below the mask. Chills went up David's spine as the mask moved closer.

David backed into the hallway as the body came into full view. It wasn't just a mask anymore. The Shape grabbed David by the throat and lifted him into the air. He slammed him against the white wall and let go. As David fell away, there was a dark red spot where his head had made contact with the wall.

The Shape stared at the lifeless body of David for a long time. He heard a faint moaning down the hall. Slowly, he wondered towards it.

Julie had the blanket pulled all the way up to her chest. There was a faint vibrating sound as Julie slowly pleasured herself with her pocket vibrator. She had gotten bored while David was gone and decided to pinch off another one.

She let out a soft moan as footsteps drew nearer. Julie was too far gone to care. She was almost at the peak. When she had finished, she looked up and saw someone standing in the doorway. She looked at the mask and gasped in surprise.

"Nice mask, David. Want to come back for seconds?"

With that, she removed the blanket to reveal her shaved thighs, the vibrator still inserted deep in her.

"Well," she said impatiently. "Do you want it or not?!"

With no response, Julie got up and said, "Oh, I get it. Is this a game, Davie? You want to play one of those role-playing games, right? You be Michael Myers and I'll be the helpless victim?"

She stepped forward as a large left hand shot out and grabbed her throat.

"I knew it! That's more like it!"

The man slammed her into the wall.

"Ouch, David! That actually hurt!" she said worried. He slammed her down on the bed.

"Easier, Davie! You're hurting me!" But she still played off her sexual desires in the way she spoke. The Shape grabbed her thigh with the other hand and squeezed hard.

"Oh, I like this game," she said. The Shape shot his other hand at her throat and picked her up. That was when she realized this wasn't David.

"No! Don't do this! Don't… No…"

He launched her forward…

"Ahhhhh!"

…and she flew through the window, shattering glass everywhere. She flew through the air and began her rapid fall, screaming all the while. She realized with a start she was going to land on the razor wire that topped the fence. The razor wire rushed towards her faster and faster. Suddenly, it was upon her. She screamed until she finally hit the wire. There was a brief splinter of pain, then darkness. There was nothing. There weren't even any dreams.

Outside in a brand new Jeep Cherokee, Sara and Myles were necking furiously. Sara was about to give in to her innermost desires and have Myles take her right there in the back of the Jeep. Myles began biting Sara's neckline and became more aggressive with each passing second. Sara fumbled her shirt and removed her jacket, tossing it behind her in the tiny space. One would think she would have been claustrophobic after her near death experience, but that was not the case. She reached down towards Myles' junk and unbuttoned his jeans.

"Are you sure you want to do this in the Jeep? I mean, there's a hotel a few Myles down the road," Myles said as he leaned in to kiss Sara again.

"I've waited for this for years; I'm not waiting another second." Sara removed her shirt, revealing nothing underneath. She leaned back and waited for Myles to take her. She leaned her head back as Myles crawled on top of her and she screamed.

But it was not because Myles had entered her; because, through the back window of the Jeep, Sara saw a naked female body rushing towards the barbed wire fence behind the Jeep. She hit the fence full speed at the neck, embedding the wire into her gullet. Sara screamed again and covered herself.

Myles looked up and freaked at the sight of the body. Sara screamed and screamed as Myles got out of the Jeep, his dress shirt unbuttoned, revealing his six-pack abs. He ran over to where the woman's body hung and keeled over, puking. When he was finished, Myles pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911.

"Hello," came a female reply. "911, what's your emergency?"

"There's a fucking body..." Myles paused to puke again. "We need someone out here now!"

Sara was screaming again. Myles looked up to the back window and saw her pointing... behind him. That wasn't a good sign. Myles turned to see Michael Myers standing over him. Myles dropped the phone to the ground as the Shape grabbed his throat and squeezed, digging his fingers into his jugular. The Shape ripped open Myles' neck and let him drop to the ground, his vocal cords lying on the concrete and his jugular pumping blood profusely. Sara screamed as Myles died on the cold stone, knowing that, as the Shape turned towards the Jeep, she would be next.


	6. Chapter 5: Rude Awakening

Chapter 5

Rude Awakening

October 30th, 2012

Loomis' House

11:55 P.M.

"SAY YOUR PRAYERS, LITTLE ONE!

DON'T FORGET, MY SON, TO INCLUDE EVERYONE…!"

The lyrics from Metallica's song "Enter Sandman" roared from the cell phone as Jason Loomis drifted slowly back to consciousness from his deep sleep. He lifted his head and reached for the source of the voice. He picked up the phone and answered the call.

"If this isn't an insanely beautiful woman, then give me one good reason I shouldn't hang up right now," he said, half dazed.

"Jason, this is Officer Brady with the Warren County Police Department," the voice said, shaking fiercely. "It's… It's… I don't even know how to begin! It's a massacre, Loomis, a fucking massacre!"

"Calm down, calm down," Loomis said calmly, the urgency in the voice on the other end not fully registering with him just yet. "What happened?"

"Michael escaped!" Loomis sat bolt upright, fully awake now.

"I'm sorry? What was that?"

_This has to be a Halloween prank_, Loomis thought.

"Michael escaped. And a bunch of people are dead," said the man.

"Is Nelson there?" Loomis asked.

"He's the one that told me to call you," the officer said.

"Tell Nelson that I'm in my car, and on my way. Don't touch nothing! I'll be right there!"

Loomis hung up the phone and looked over at his girlfriend, who stirred as Jason got out of the bed. He pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a black shirt as his girlfriend rolled over in the bed.

"Who was that?" she asked sleepily, her voice sounding sexy even when she was tired.

"Uh, medical emergency at the asylum. Gotta go," Jason said as he tied his boot lace.

"Well how bad is it? If it can wait, I want a quickie before you go."

"Sorry, babe, but it's that bad. I may not be home until tomorrow." Jason leaned over and kissed his blushing girlfriend. "I'll see you in a day or so." _God, I've never lied in my entire life; don't make me start now._

"Bye, baby..." she said.

Jason walked to the bedroom door, and paused, turning to the closet next to him. Hanging at the back of the closet was a long, tan-colored trench coat, the same trench coat his grandfather owned years ago when he had hunted down Myers. Loomis reached for the coat and put it on.

_Oddly fitting_, Loomis remarked mentally.

Moments later, he was out the front door. Jason's girlfriend drifted back to sleep as the sound of his Mustang roared off into the night

October 31st, 2012

Smith's Grove Sanitarium

12:15 A.M.

It was 12:15 A.M. when Loomis finished the drive from his house to the asylum; it was utter chaos. Ambulances blocked roads; police cars were scattered everywhere; there was a news van trying to get footage. Loomis parked his car a few yards from the main gate and stepped out, only then becoming aware of the whirring of helicopter blades. As Loomis passed the guard shack, he noticed two paramedics covering the first body. Loomis made his way to the person who called him in the middle of the night to give him the worst news imaginable.

Bruce Nelson was talking to a nearby officer, giving him instructions. Bruce was in his mid-thirties and fairly thin. He had close-cropped brown hair and what he called a life was spent trying to hook up with girls at bars. But tonight, his priorities were straight.

"What the hell happened, Nelson?" Jason asked impatiently. Nelson turned to his friend and gave it to him straight.

"911 emergency call came in around 11:35. Kid by the name of Myles Barton," Nelson pointed to the dead body of Myles.

Loomis shook his head and looked a few yards away. Another large pool of blood had formed a halo around the outline of where a body had been. Jason's eyes drifted to the gurney that was being lifted onto its wheels. On it was Sara Moyer.

Jason had an iron stomach; what he saw made him want to lose his dinner, lunch, and breakfast in that order. Sara's pretty face, which he had seen only twelve hours previously for her checkout interview, had a large blade of glass sticking out of what may have at one point been an eye socket. Blood covered half of her face and caked her hair. Loomis had seen some sick shit in his days of the army, but he had never thought he would see a woman as beautiful as Sara with a shard of glass jutting a good eight inches out of her face, cutting God knew how deep into her beautiful skin.

"She's alive," Nelson said. "But her injuries are pretty severe."

Loomis approached Sara and reached a hand into her forehead.

"Dr. Loomis..." came her hoarse whisper. It was barely audible, but Loomis heard it. Jason nearly dropped a tear as he grasped Sara's hand.

"Be strong, Sara. You're going to be fine." Jason said.

"Bull... shit." Sara wheezed. The paramedics wheeled Sara towards the whirling helicopter. Loomis held her hand until she was gone. The medics closed the chopper up and took flight. Loomis watched the craft climb higher and higher before turning back to Nelson.

"What happened to her?" Loomis asked.

Nelson pointed up to a broken window on the third floor.

"She was thrown out that window…"

He traced a line from the glass to a spot on the fence where a naked woman, whom Jason recognized as the nurse that David was flirting with, hung by her neck. The wire had cut into her neck so deep, she was almost decapitated. Her body hung limply, arms at their sides while her mouth was open, frozen in its final moments of life and dripping with blood.

"…and landed on the razor wire. She must have been having sex or something because there was a vibrator directly below her. Must have had it inside her and the force of the awkward landing caused her to, uh, expel it."

"Not her," Loomis said. "Her!" Loomis pointed to the flying helicopter.

"Oh, well..." Nelson pointed to the Jeep, where the back window was broken out. Blood had been smeared on the remaining shards stuck in the window. "You can imagine.

"Come, there are more inside," Nelson said.

"How many?" Jason asked.

"We've counted ten. Four of them were security guards." Jason jaw dropped as Nelson walked inside. Jason followed.

Inside, the night nurse's desk was covered in blood, but there was no body.

"We found this one bent up like a pretzel. We had her carted off first. It was way too gruesome to look at," Nelson said. "The rest of the bodies are on the second floor."

They walked to a nearby elevator and rode it up to the second floor of the building. Once the doors opened, they were met by the flashbulbs of photographers for the police. Immediately, Loomis saw another body.

"This was one of the four security guards. The other two are downstairs in pieces. Literally."

The body before them was of a young Hispanic. His neck had been twisted around in a one-eighty, a portion of flesh ripped in two and caked with dried blood.

Loomis and Nelson continued. They came across a room with two bodies inside. Police cluttered the room around the bodies. One was dressed in a security guard uniform, whose nametag identified him as Max; the other was a doctor, judging from the outfit he wore.

"There's one more body." Loomis turned and looked at Nelson. "It's the one I called you down here for."

"Why?"

"I think you're the only one who can give us a positive I.D."

After a pause, Loomis finally said, "Show me."

"Yup, that's David Starks." Loomis said a few moments later. "He went to med school with my father years ago. He's the one who put Michael and Sara in my charge after my dad…. Sara never knew Michael was in the same building as she was."

They were standing over David's broken corpse. Loomis looked at the body, then at Nelson, then at something off to the side of Nelson's head.

"Son of a bitch," Loomis muttered.

It was an old newspaper clipping, yellow from years of oxidization. Loomis stepped closer and examined it for a moment before taking it down from the wall and heading out the door with it, Nelson close behind.

"We got to keep a lid on this thing," he said, heading back downstairs. "I'll get on the horn with the sheriff of Haddonfield and tell him to keep watch for Michael. He's an old buddy of mine; he'll listen to me."

"What do you want me to do?" Nelson asked. Loomis turned to Nelson with an angered look on his face. He handed Nelson the article, who took it.

"Find out what the fuck this is all about."

Nelson looked down at the article for the first time. The headline shouted, "MICHAEL MYERS DEAD!"

"Son of a bitch," Nelson muttered.

"Oh what a tangled web we've woven. Untangle it."

"Will do, Jason," Nelson said as Loomis shoed him off. Nelson then started shouting something to the tune of "Keep those reporters back!"

Loomis stared into the night sky as he pulled out his cell phone. He knew this was already going to be a long day. He already had a rude awakening and, soon, Haddonfield would get one too.

He put the phone to his ear as a cheerful, female voice said, "Haddonfield Police."

"Yes," Loomis replied. "Get me the sheriff."

"He's not in right now, can I take a message?"

"Yeah, you can tell him that he needs to wake the fuck up and make sure he's in his office by the time I get there!"

The cool night air felt good on her toes. Molly Tate sat sideways on her porch swing with her bare feet hanging off the opposite edge. In her hand she held a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Molly's hair was golden-blond, shoulder-length and somewhere between wavy and curly. She had thin eyebrows and deep, cobalt-blue eyes. She stared out at the empty street. Tonight, children would be lining up for Snickers bars and Popcorn Balls and what-not.

She heard a door open and looked back. Her husband, John, walked out the door and sat next to her.

Though Molly and John were both thirty-one, John was older by a good three months. He was a head taller than Molly and had a full head of brown hair and green eyes.

Molly moved her feet so John could sit down, then she promptly replaced them on John's lap and began twitching them nonchalantly. Taking his cue, John began massaging the soles of her cold feet.

"I'm so glad you were able to get this house, John," Molly said.

"Well only the best for the women in my life," John said. "Besides, it was just time to get away from Summer Glen."

"I know, baby," Molly cooed as she looked out from the porch. "Can I ask a question?"

"Shoot."

"Of all the places in the world, why come back to Haddonfield?" Molly asked. "I mean, this is where everything began. With Michael, your mom, the sister and the aunt you never knew. Why here?"

John sat in silence for a moment, thinking for a moment about the answer.

"It may not be perfect, but this is where my family roots are," John finally answered. "I mean, this is where my family is from. Even though they're all dead, this is where they are and this is where I feel I have to be.

"Besides," John continued. "I think Laurie's going to like it here. Mom always told me that Haddonfield is a great place to raise a child. I always thought she was giving me a clue."

"Maybe she was," Molly said as she took another sip of her chocolate. "God, I really wish I could have met Jamie. She probably would have been a very nice little girl. And if she's anything like her own mother, she would have made an excellent mother herself. Just like how you have made an excellent father."

John opened his mouth to say something else, but at that moment the phone inside rang. John looked at Molly and said, "I'll get that." He got up and walked inside. He picked up the phone in mid-ring. Molly heard John's part of the conversation from outside.

"Hello? Yes, speaking. What news? Is it bad? Well what is it?" There was a long silence. Then...

"What? No, that can't be true. It can't be! They told us he was dead! Listen, motherfucker, if this is some sick joke…! What? Dr. Loomis? How long ago? You're sure? Ok. Thank you…"

He hung up the phone somberly, headed back outside and sat down on the porch swing. He didn't put his arm around Molly or even look at her.

"John, who was it?" John was silent. "John? Baby, you're scaring me. John, say something!"

John turned his head slightly. "Is she asleep?"

"Yes, John. What is wrong?"

"Go check on her!"

"John…"

GO CHECK ON HER!" he demanded.

Frightened, Molly ran to her daughter's room. John sat on the porch while Molly ran inside.

Molly strolled down the hallway and opened to door to her daughter's room. She looked at the bed near the large window. The blinds and curtains were closed. Above the bed were the words "LAURIE" in bold letters, a decoration that would be used at her birthday party later that day. On the shelf were several stuffed animals belonging to the twelve-year-old Laurie.

Laurie herself was snug in her large bed, her long brown hair covering her face and flowing down the pillow like a waterfall. Molly smiled and felt a huge twinge of relief. She walked back out of the house to John.

"Laurie is fine, John! Now what the hell is wrong with you? Who was on the phone?"

John looked up at Molly's big brown eyes and golden hair. "They lied to us. Those bastards lied to us!" John stood up and took a mad, wild swing at nothing in particular, hitting potted plant and shattering it.

"John," Molly said. "What did they lie about?"

John looked at Molly with his deep green eyes and said the two words she never wanted to here: "Michael's alive." John could see the horror spreading across his wife's face. He didn't want to say what was coming next, but he had to. As he did, his voice began to crack.

"He's alive, and he's escaped, and he may be coming here."

Molly stumbled into John's arm began crying as well.


	7. Chapter 6: You Can't Escape Fate

Chapter 6

You Can't Escape Fate…

Haddonfield High School

October 31st, 2012

11:45 A.M.

Stephen sat in the back of Mrs. Hill's Video/Film Studies class, paying apt attention to the movie playing on the television screen sitting on a cart near her desk. On the screen a young boy, not much older than Stephen, was walking along a street somewhere in Paris having just had a very disturbing conversation with two of his friends. The female, presumably his girlfriend, had a freaked out look on her face. She suddenly stood up and shouted the boy's name.

"ALEX!"

Alex stopped and turned to face her just short of stepping off the curbside…

AND GETTING SMASHED BY THE FRONT END OF A BUS!

He took a reflexive leap backwards as the bus came out of nowhere and shot towards him at a high speed. Mindlessly, he stumbled backwards and threw his hands up to protect his face.

A few feet further along down the road, the bus lurched as the driver, too late, jerked hard on the wheel, sending the bus into oncoming traffic. The driver corrected the steer… and oversteered the bus straight onto the sidewalk, where it rushed into a sign post, sending it flying into the air.

The sign post flew through the night air, impacting the framework for the giant neon sign for the café, "LeMiro81." The sign began sparking and lighting up with fireworks as the post crashed through the cables and electric lines that held the sign in place, causing the sign to loosen and wobble before finally deciding it wanted to fall to the ground. Almost.

At the last possible second, the cables holding the sign snapped taught, halting its fall momentarily. Momentarily, being the key word.

The section of the sign containing the "o81" snapped off from the rest of the framework and continued on a downward swing… straight towards Alex.

Alex stood motionless as the sign continued its downward arc, coming towards him fast like a Reaper's scythe…

Alex was rushed to the ground as the sign passed within inches of him, Carter, his other friend, tackled on top of him. The sign swung away from the pair as Carter stood up, the gasps of onlookers audible over his yelling.

It had all happened in a matter of seconds.

"I told you that you were next," Carter shouted!

"Then it just skipped me," Alex gasped.

"So who's next?" Carter demanded.

Alex was no longer listening to Carter. All his attention was now focused on the large, ten-foot tall letters of the sign coming back towards them. The letters read, "180."

Carter's face dropped as he suddenly realized that he was ne-

A split millisecond before the sign quartered Carter into a dozen pieces, the screen cut to black, but the impact was still heard throughout the classroom. Several students clapped and cheered at the demise of the douchebag jock as Mrs. Hill came forward and hit stop on the video player.

"So, class," Mrs. Hill began. "Can anybody tell me what the central theme of this movie is?"

There was a robust silence from the class as Mrs. Hill looked around the room. Stephen himself was not paying attention; all of his attention was focused on a person standing outside the school, across the street, near an oak tree. The man had a pearly white face and medium-length brown hair that flew in the crisp breeze. He stared at the window Stephen watched him from, not moving, not doing anything except staring.

Stephen watched the man, and stared back. He felt something awaken deep within him; a kind of hunger for… something, he couldn't quite catch what it was. But as he stared at the man in the street, he felt… at peace.

"Stephen!" Hill shouted.

"Yes, ma'am?" Stephen said as he shot up in his seat.

"Would you care to answer the question for us?"

"Fate," Stephen said, as if it were obvious.

"Excellent work, Stephen," Hill said. "And could you explain for us why it was so important? How did fate interfere with these characters' lives?" Stephen sat up in his desk.

"Well, fate had a destination set in stone for these characters: that all of them were going to die. It was, according to the film's title, their final destination. It had an agenda, and when Alex had the premonition and saw the agenda laid out before him before he knew what it was, he acted and saved six others from their original fate. But no matter what course of action Alex took, or would have taken, the other characters were destined to die. It was their fate."

"Exactamente," Hill shouted. "Alex interfered with fate, and it robbed him of the life he lived and enjoyed. Do you think that Alex, at any point, stopped and asked himself if it would have been better to have died on the plane than to have everything he loved, with the sole exception of Clear, stripped away from him in an instant?"

Hill droned on and on about the film from the front of the room, but Stephen was, again, no longer paying attention. He had returned his gaze to the window, trying to find the stranger from earlier. But there was nobody there. The man had vanished.

The bell rang and Stephen gathered up his stuff as the teeming mass of students moved towards the exit.

Haddonfield Police Department

12:35 P.M.

The skies had darkened and were threatening rain when Loomis parked his car next to a cluster of patrol vehicles in the Haddonfield Police Station. He exited his vehicle and looked up. It wasn't even sunset yet and already the skies were dark with a sense of foreboding. Loomis didn't like it. Or maybe it was just the chill the clouds brought. Quickly, Loomis stepped inside the building.

Inside, Loomis was met with a cacophony of ringing phones and mixed voices. Numerous officers were fielding phone calls, while others were filling out paperwork. Paying them no attention, Loomis made his way over up to the front desk, where a beautiful-looking secretary whose name-tag identified her as Corbett was sitting. Even sitting down, Loomis could tell she was about five months pregnant.

"Excuse me," Loomis said, acting suave. "I'm here to see the Sheriff."

"He's back in his office. He's waiting for you. He's not really happy, either."

"Thanks," Loomis said as the smile vanished from his face. He walked down the hall to the sheriff's office door and entered.

The first thing Loomis noticed about the office was the couple dozen framed pictures hung all over the walls, which were painted a soothing taupe color.

"Been a long time since I've been in this office, sheriff." Loomis said. "Hasn't changed a bit."

"No, it hasn't," said a voice from the chair behind the desk. "But you certainly have, Loomis."

Loomis looked at the man in the chair, unable to recognize him. Then, it hit him and a smile crossed his lips. "Officer Brackett!"

The young man in the chair stood up and showed himself off. Loomis was correct; there was no mistaking that mop of curly hair.

"It is Sheriff Brackett now," Brackett said. The expression of excitement never left Loomis' face.

"What happened to Sheriff Robinson? Did he retire?"

"No, he died. He left Barnes in charge, and Barnes retired. I was promoted after…" Brackett traced a series of intricate burn lines across the left side of his face; eerily, they still looked fresh. "My trophy for saving thirteen people from a homicidal arsonist."

"It's great seeing you again, Brackett. Haven't seen you since I got back from med school." Loomis approached Brackett and threw his arms around him. Brackett returned the gesture.

"Yeah, I heard you were a doctor now," Brackett said as he crossed the room to a bar where there were various assorted alcohols lined up in two rows. He picked up a bottle of scotch and poured himself a glass. "Up at Smith's Grove, was it?"

"So I guess you know," Loomis said as he waited for it to begin.

"I do. I also know that last night, I made a phone call to a young man named John Tate and his family here in Haddonfield about the escape of a certain psychotic criminal who happens to be related to them. Michael Myers, I think his name was." Sheriff Brackett said calmly. He offered a glass to Loomis, who shook his head. Brackett returned to his chair and sipped on his beverage.

"Now look, Lee," Jason began. "It's not my fault..."

Loomis thought Brackett was done talking, but he clearly wasn't.

"Oh, I know that. It's all the fault of some bureaucratic assholes who don't know what's good for the rest of the world. But I just wanted you to get an idea of HOW FUCKING PISSED OFF I AM!" Brackett tossed the glass at Loomis; well, not _at_ Loomis, but enough in his general direction that Loomis ducked anyway just before the glass shattered against the wall.

"The last thing this town needs is another goddamn Halloween massacre wrought by a motherfucker who is supposed to be dead!" Brackett continued yelling.

"Look, Brackett!" Loomis said, raising his voice to match Lee's. "I didn't know what they told the public! I was there to treat Myers and that's all. And now he's escaped!

"Now, I just walked out of a building with ten bodies! Michael Myers is coming back to Haddonfield if he isn't here already! There is no use in bitching about what should have been done, because what needs to be done right now is this: you need to protect your town!" Loomis took a deep breath and calmed himself down before continuing. "And I want to help you do that, Lee."

Lee Brackett relaxed in his chair and looked at a color picture of his father, standing with him and his mother in front of their Florida home.

"Thirty-four years ago, my father and your grandfather chased this bastard through these very same streets. And now, here we are, thirty years later, wearing their shoes. It's true what they say about fate and irony…" Brackett trailed off before adding, "It's like we inherited this unfinished business, and now we have to stop it."

"So will you help me?" Loomis asked. There was a long pause. Brackett let out a deep sigh before turning back to Loomis.

"I will," he finally said. "Just promise me two things."

"Great. What are they?" Loomis asked.

"One: keep this under wraps. Anyone who doesn't already know, doesn't need to know. If the public was told Myers is dead, then what kind of panic will erupt if they learn the truth now? And 2: You have to promise me that if we find Michael, you will not hesitate to blow his fuckin head off."

Loomis pondered the words for a moment before responding. "I'll make sure nobody makes the same mistake David made. Mark my words, Lee, Michael Myers will die tonight. Weather it is by my hand, yours, or someone else's, Michael will not live to see tomorrow."

"Great," Lee said. "Now, let's discuss how we're going to roll this," Lee said. He stood up and walked towards the lobby. Loomis followed him out the door.

"We have to get more patrols on the street first," Jason said as they walked through the building towards Brackett's cruiser. "Set up a mandatory curfew for anyone under 18 and get people off the streets before dark. We got a lot of work to do in eight hours. Oh damn, this ain't going to be easy," Jason said dismally. His grandfather never told him how difficult handling Myers actually was.


	8. Chapter 7: The Long Night Ahead

Chapter 7

The Long Night Ahead

The Tower Farm

4:42 P.M.

If she was nervous, she sure as hell didn't show it. Carrie walked around the small farmhouse, checking off everything that was in place for the party in one hour, eleven minutes. The jack-o-lanterns were carved and in place throughout the house. There was a full fridge full of cold beers and the kegs were scattered throughout the property.

"Well, that's everything," Carrie said to Emily as she hung up the last of the decorations, a motion-activated spider that would drop down whenever somebody walked under it.

"Great," Emily replied. "Now we just have to go check on Travis in the barn. He should be almost done setting those kegs."

"So what did you do after Travis and I left you at the mall?" Carrie asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"I had lunch with Karl," Emily said.

"Really?" Carrie asked with feigned surprise. "And, uh, how did that go?"

"It went pretty well. Did you know that he's the reason Marcus Phelps looks like he got knocked the fuck out by Mike Tyson?"

"No, I didn't. So what happened after that?"

"Nothing, really. We talked for a while, then Stephen came back and he left. Do you know if he's coming to the party tonight?"

"Sounds like someone's got a crush…" Carrie mocked.

"I do not!" Emily defended. "Although, I wouldn't go so far as to say that I won't develop one if he plays his cards right. Right now, I think I'm perfectly fine keeping him in the 'just friends' zone.

"Goddamnit, what is taking Travis so long?" Emily shouted. "I'm going to go check on him."

"Alright," Carrie agreed. "Just make it quick, alright."

"Will do," Emily said as she walked out the door. Carrie walked around the house one last time to make sure everything was in place and ready. The kegs were all pressurized; the sound system was completely set up; and the decorations were all in place. By the time she had finished everything, she realized that Emily had been gone for ten minutes.

"Where the hell is she?" Carrie asked herself as she checked her watch. "If you want something done, got to do it yourself." She took one last look around the house and went out the door.

When she stepped outside, she was met with a harsh chill. It was as if there was something that was intentionally making the air colder. She looked around and noticed a small, but thick, fog setting in to her left, the direction of the barn. A chill ran up her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She thought she heard music coming from somewhere. Shaking it off, she slowly headed for the barn.

By now, the fog was closing in on her and getting thicker. She thought she heard footsteps behind her and she turned just in time to see a shadow moving several yards behind her.

"Travis?" Carrie called. "Travis, it's too early for tricks _or_ treats. So come out now!"

No response.

She turned and continued heading for the barn. She could see the wood sides of the barn and felt her way across them to the door. She cracked the door open and crept in. She called for Travis again and when there was no response, she ventured further inside. A loud bang behind her startled her. The barn door had closed. She called for Travis again.

"Travis if you don't answer, there won't be any treats for you tonight!"

She was answered by a loud creaking sound. She turned to see something she never thought she would see: Travis, shirtless and covered in blood.

Travis was lying in a pile of hay covered in blood; his neck slit wide open and gushing blood. His stomach was gaping open and leaking organs. Carrie tried to cover her mouth before screaming, but failed and screamed anyway as something landed on her shoulder. She turned and let out another terrifying scream as Emily swung down from the rafters with a rope around her neck. The rope snapped and Emily fell limp to the ground. Carrie yelled yet again when something else touched her shoulder.

A "dead" Travis removed his hand from Carrie's back as she slowly calmed down. He laughed as Carrie finally caught her breath. A chuckle came from behind her. Carrie turned to see Emily standing up from her "hanging" and remove the rope. Carrie looked back at Travis, who was removing the fake gashes from his body and replaced his "THE FLASH" t-shirt, which consisted of a faded white circle with a faded yellow lightning bolt going diagonally across it.

"Travis, you fucking asshole," Carrie yelled as she hit him repeatedly in the shoulder. "You fucking gave me a heart attack!"

Emily was rolling in the hay, laughing. Carrie directed the attack at her next. "You put him up to it, bitch! You're so next!"

With that, she laughed and jumped on top of Emily.

"Dogpile," Travis shouted as he "fell" on top of Carrie. All three of them began laughing in the cartoonish brawl. Travis then positioned himself in a sexual way on Carrie and began "humping" her. Carrie came up and head-butted Travis with the back of her scalp, sending him sprawling to the floor, laughing.

4:55 P.M.

"Watch out!" Stephen yelled.

Reacting, Karl instantly dove to the side as a mortar shell exploded. He recovered just in time to dodge a plasma grenade and return one of his own. The plasma grenade stuck to the armor of the large brute that was approaching him, which immediately charged him, only to explode after a few feet.

"Alright," Stephen said. "Amber, use your sniper rifle to take out those Elites standing near the flag so I can get through."

"Already done," Amber replied as Stephen watched the two Elites fall down without any clue what was happening to them until it was all over. Seizing his chance, Stephen ducked into the base and grabbed the Red Team flag before returning to the base's roof and dropping the flag on a firework. He then shot the firework, causing it to explode and send the flag flying high into the air.

On the other side of Blood Gulch, the flag landed a few inches away from where Karl was standing. He immediately grabbed the flag and placed it in the Blue Team base. The final score came up and an anonymous, deep voiced announcer said, "Game over."

"Awesome," Stephen said as he set his XBOX controller down on the couch he was sitting on. Amber was sitting on the floor below him, nestled between his legs while Karl was sitting on the couch arm.

"Didn't think we would win that one," Karl said. "That mortar almost got me."

"You guys want to do another game?" Amber asked.

"Not so fast, guys," Danny said as he stuck his head in the living room where they all sat. "Steaks are almost done marinating, bout ready to cook. Karl," Danny said now addressing Karl. "You're best at cooking. Come out here and help me fire up the grill." Danny then disappeared into the kitchen with Karl, leaving Stephen and Amber alone.

"Okay, how about us?" Amber asked.

"Only if it's a Slayer game," Stephen said.

Twenty minutes later, the two of them made their way into the dining room where Karl was bringing in the steaks, while Danny pulled a tray of stuffed potato skins out of the oven and set them on the table.

"Alright, dig in, you animals," Danny said. Instantly, all the steaks and potato skins were evenly divided between the four animals.

"So, what are everyone's plans for Halloween night tonight?" Danny asked as he carved into the medium-rare slab of dead cow in front of him.

"Well," Stephen said. "We had all planned on going to a party."

"A party?" Danny asked. "On a school night?"

"Well, if it's alright..." Stephen began.

"No," Danny said. "It's completely fine. Mom and Dad are out for the rest of the week; we have complete run of the house.

"Plus, it would be an outright lie to say I didn't go out late on school nights when I was your age. I just wasn't allowed to do so on Halloween."

"Why not?" Karl asked. Danny stopped mid-chew and looked up before swallowing his food.

"Not quite sure..." Danny said slowly. "Guess it has something to do with the town's history. You know; that whole Michael Myers legend..."

"But it's all over," Amber said. "Michael Myers is dead and buried and has been for ten years. I know; my dad saw his body!"

"Be that as it may, I still want the three of you to be careful out there tonight," Danny said. "Even if Myers is dead, a lot of nut-jobs come out on Halloween. Now, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about tonight. Just don't let mom and Tommy know I let you out. And be home at a respectable time."

"What qualifies as 'respectable time', Danny?" Stephen asked.

"In my book, before sunrise," Danny said.

"Well, if we're going to be back by then, I should go ahead and get cleaned up. I smell like the mall," Stephen said as he quickly wolfed down the remainder of his steak and excused himself from the table.

About ten minutes later, Stephen stepped out of the shower and into his bedroom to raid his closet for a shirt. He wasn't normally one to be picky about his clothing, but he felt like there was something special about tonight.

He had had a crush on Amber for the longest time and the numerous subtle flirts she was dropping him made him semi-self-conscious about his wardrobe tonight. He decided to pick out something conservative, in a teenager's sense of the word: a black t-shirt and a plaid long-sleeved button-up with a pair of blue jeans.

He closed the closet door and found himself staring at his mirror. In it, he saw that his room was somewhat clean, but clothes were scattered everywhere. An empty laundry hamper sat at the foot of his bed.

While he was observing himself, Stephen looked down at his front side, noticing the large, odd shaped scar. He traced a finger down over the long side of the scar before moving on to the triangle-point sticking off to the side.

He wondered, however vaguely, how he had gotten such a well-defined mark. He had been told that it was from a car wreck he had been in when he was still an infant, but Karl always argued that it was too well defined in shape and too precise to be anything but man-made. That worried Stephen; why would his parents _want_ to carve a strange symbol into his belly in the first place?

He brushed those thoughts out of his head as he looked around at his room. Sighing, he began picking up the clothes and launching them into the hamper like a basketball. When he was finally finished, he looked around at his clean room. He looked at the digital clock on his nightstand. It was nearly 5:00; the party would be starting soon.

Stephen made his way down to the living room, where Karl was finishing off the last of his steak and Amber was sitting on the couch.

"You guys ready to go?" Stephen asked.

"Yeah, just a second," Karl said as chewed the last bite of steak. "Alright, let's go." Karl put down his plate, grabbed his jacket and his keys, and opened the door. Karl walked out first, then Amber. As she walked past Stephen, she "accidentally" brushed her hand against his butt cheek. Very tightly…

"Oops, sorry," Amber apologized with a dirty smile as she walked out the door. Stephen walked out behind her, and shouted at his brother before closing the door.

"Danny, we're leaving!"

"See ya later, dude!"

Stephen closed the door and ran down the steps to Karl's Camaro parked in the street. Karl was sitting in the driver's seat, struggling to start the engine, which was having trouble turning over.

"Come on, motherfucker!" Karl shouted. After a full minute of trying to get his car to start, Karl gave up.

"Looks like we're hoofin' it, dude," Karl said as he got out of the car.

"Shit," Stephen said. "I guess I better go grab a jacket." Stephen turned back towards the house and could already tell that it was going to be a long night.


	9. Chapter 8: Blood and Oil

Chapter 8

Blood and Oil

Phelps' Garage

5:55 P.M.

Haddonfield is like any other Small Town, America. There are places for kids to hang out, a large library, and a liquor store. There is even a lush, green park. All of the yards have clean and fresh cut green grass. Most of the trees have lost their leaves or starting to, but when they're at their peak, the trees are thick with green leaves. But outside of town is a different story.

Outside of town, there is practically a line where the green ends and the barren wastelands begin. Once you've actually left the city, it's nothing but dirt-filled farmlands for nearly fifty miles in any direction. Once you've past this dead "wall" around the city, there are wooded areas that go on for miles and miles. But in the tiny desert, only a few trees dot the landscape. Tucked between clusters of these rare trees is a small gas station/garage. A broken sign positioned over the garage entrance read "Phelps' Garage." The setting sun cast an eerie light on the station.

The man known only as Phelps had been a tow-truck driver back in the seventies who had vanished without a trace on Halloween night nearly thirty-five years ago. He had left behind a daughter, Kim, and a brother, Norman Dale. Dale ran the shop, and the adjoining diner, for a further ten years until he and his friend and fellow mechanic, Glen, and their associates who worked in the diner, had been killed by some nut-job with a mask while Kim was off at school. She had returned shortly thereafter and began running the station by herself.

Despite being over forty, Kim had done well in maintaining her body. She was well toned and somewhat muscly, especially for a mother. Many people had told her how much they admired her body, and not just from a sexual standpoint, but from a bodybuilding perspective, as well; as her friend Kendall had pointed out to her, if she crossed her legs while you were going down on her, she might have crushed your skull.

Inside the station, Kim was hard at work on her off-road motorbike. On the nearby radio, Mudvayne was performing "Not Falling," rather loudly.

"_I… I STAND!_

_NOT CRAWLING! NOT FALLING DOWN!_

_I… I BLEED! THE DEMONS…_

_THAT DRAG ME DOWN!_

_I… I STAND!_

_NOT CRAWLING! NOT FALLING DOWN!_

_I… I BLEED! THE DEMONS…_

_THAT PULL ME DOWN!"_

"Kendall," she called out over the music. "Have you seen the socket wrenches?"

She got no response.

"Kendall?" She called again. "Kendall! Where the fuck are you?"

Angered, she stood up. She walked over to the radio and turned the music down, hoping Kendall could hear her over the music.

"Kendall, enough with the Halloween tricks! It's closing time!" There was still silence. Shaking her head, Kim walked to the front of the store. Had she glanced out of the halfway open garage door, she would have seen a costumed man watching her every move.

She made sure all of the windows were closed and doors locked before taking off her coveralls. She had on a regular t-shirt and blue jeans. She placed the coveralls on the back of a chair and grabbed a black bag. She opened it up and pulled out a clean set of clothes. She pulled off her grease-stained white shirt, revealing a black lace bra. At that time, she heard a loud bang coming from the garage. She slipped her white shirt back on and went back into the garage.

The chains used to raise and lower the door were swinging. She noticed her motorbike had been knocked over.

"Shit," she said silently.

She glanced around the garage and didn't see anyone, not even Kendall.

"Kendall, the joke has gone far enough! If you're still here, come out or you're not getting _anything_ from me tonight!"

She glanced in the direction of the bathroom and sighed. If Kendall was hiding anywhere, it was there. She walked over to the bathroom casually. She grabbed the door and jerked it open.

"Ahhhh!"

Inside stood a man dressed in coveralls wearing a white mask. The eyes peered out through the enlarged holes.

Kim took a step back as the man stepped forward with a crowbar in his hands. She fell backwards over a pipe as the man raised the crowbar high over her head. He brought the crowbar down fast. Kim screamed for her life as the crowbar…

…Stopped only inches from her head. A sound of laughter came from the masked man.

"God-fucking-damn it, Kendall!" Kim screamed as Kendall took off the mask. "You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack! And at my age, that's the last thing I need, you little shithead!"

"I'm sorry, but the temptation was too much."

"Where the fuck did you get this fucking thing anyway, Kenny?" Kim asked.

Kendall was ten, maybe fifteen years Kim's junior and still had his teenage looks. He had a mane of long blond hair, reminiscent of late "Nirvana" front man, Kurt Cobain.

Kim kept Kendall around for two reasons, and two reasons only; first and foremost being that Kendall was the best mechanic she had had in over a decade.

"I found the mask lying outside on the ground. It's one of those new 'Silver Shamrock' Halloween masks." Kendall pointed to the gas pumps outside.

"Well, it's time to close up, Kendall," Kim said, relieved. She smiled and leaned forward and kissed him. As she turned to leave, Kendall slapped Kim's ass. She jumped and squealed with delight as Kendall went back into the bathroom to wash up while she headed into the empty diner section of the garage.

That was the other reason she kept him around: they were also engaged. Kim didn't give two fucks about what everyone said to her engagement of Kendall; the man had been a sweetheart when she hired him three or four years back. Put aside the fact that Kendall wasn't much more than seven years older than her son, there was something about Kendall that just made him a better choice than any other potential husband Kim had courted over her life.

Also, Kendall's young age meant that he would make a better friend for her son than her ex-husband. Kendall had already taken her son to numerous Chicago Bears football games, and he seemed to enjoy Kendall's company at the house; they were always playing video games or something, and Kendall never said he was too busy to do something with him, or Kim, for that matter.

Kim pulled off her large, navy blue coveralls before removing the white t-shirt she had underneath it, baring her well-muscled chest and stomach. She sat down in the chair and pulled off her steel-toed work shoes and socks. Standing back up, she then pulled off her jeans, revealing her two extremely long, well-toned legs. She reached into her nearby clothes bag and grabbed pulled out a beautiful black dress shirt. She placed the shirt aside before reaching back into the bag for the matching skirt, sliding it on before sitting back down. She reached into the bag and grabbed a pair of lace-up high heels and thigh-high stockings.

A thump on the window disturbed her. She looked up to see Kendall watching through the window into the garage. He was staring at her with a blank expression. She laughed and put on her stockings, all the while watching Kendall's hardly changing facial expressions.

Slowly, she rolled the stockings up her long, shaven legs. When she got to the skirt, she hiked it up, revealing her bare inner thighs to Kendall. She finished with the stockings and began putting the heels on. Kendall always did enjoy watching her get dressed; he seemed to get off more on her dressing than the opposite. She had to admit, she got a kick out of it, too.

When she was finished, she was still watching Kendall, who had hardly moved an inch. Her expression of joy and lust quickly turned to curiosity as she stood up and walked over to the door. She reached for the knob and turned. She opened the door and Kendall stood where he was.

"Kendall, are you ok?" Kim asked. "Kendall, if this is another of your tricks, then guess what? You lost any chance you had of getting me in bed tonight!"

Kendall moved. He collapsed to his knees and fell forward, hitting Kim in the crotch with his head. But Kim barely noticed. Her attention was focused on the man _behind_ Kendall.

The man held a bloody knife in his hand and wore the exact same mask Kendall had earlier. He stood a head taller than Kim, and outweighed her by at least seventy, maybe eighty pounds.

Kim stood in horror as the man raised the knife above his head, bringing it down fast. Kim moved away fast, but not fast enough; the blade caught her breast, creating a deep cut and causing her to bleed profusely.

"No!" she screamed as she ran for the front door. She fumbled with the doorknob for a moment, but it was locked. She fiddled with the lock for a moment, but the man was getting closer.

In desperation, she used her strength to break the door off its hinges and bolted out the doorway just as the man was about to reach her. By now, the sun was a sliver of red on the horizon. Otherwise, it was completely dark.

She cursed herself for not removing the high heels. She thought about doing it now, but the man would have caught up with her by the time she was finished. Instead, she ran for her Chevy Tahoe. She reached into her bra and grabbed the keys. She looked back and slowed down when she saw the man was gone. She stopped for a brief second and looked for him. He was nowhere to be seen. She jumped into her Tahoe and closed the door. She fumbled and dropper her keys on the floorboard. She bent over to pick them up. She put the keys in the ignition. Then he appeared.

One second, he wasn't there; the next, he was standing right next to her window. She screamed as he punched through the window. Broken glass flew and cut Kim's screaming face. By the time the glass settled on the ground, she was bleeding heavily. The man reached through the broken glass and grabbed Kim by the hair. He dragged her out of the vehicle slowly. Kim could feel the shards of glass cutting her legs and stockings as she was dragged out. The pain was unbearable. The man stopped when he got a good grip on her, leaving her legs below the kneecap hanging in the broken window. She whimpered as the man put the blade to her neck. She looked up at the cold, unforgiving eyes. They looked back, seemed to stare right through her...

"Please," she said quietly. "Please, don't-Ughhh!"

Michael Myers slit Kim's throat and watched the blood flow from the deep cut and spill onto the dry soil. He dropped her on the ground and when he was finished pulling her out of the car, the ground was red with blood. Michael dragged Kim's body back into the station and left her there. Upon returning, Michael got in the car and started the engine. He pulled away from the bloody carnage. Had he waited another minute, he could have claimed a third victim. As he pulled away, another car drove the opposite direction and pulled into the station.

The Dodge Ram pickup pulled up next to the front door and stopped. Marcus Phelps got out of the pickup.

"Mom," he shouted. "Mom, Kendall, are you guys here?" Marcus entered the office and closed the door behind him. He took a look at himself in the mirror and caressed his broken nose and bruised face. Karl had really done a number on him. He'd get that little bastard back eventually. Marcus rounded a corner in the hallway and tripped over something. Marcus looked up and saw his mother's body on the ground.

"Mom!" he shouted. He rushed over to her knelt beside her. He lifted her head up and noticed the blood. He could see she was semi-conscious and in great pain. Tears welled up in the bully's eyes as his mother's life slipped away in his hands.

"Mom, stay with me!"

Kim groaned something and blood flowed rapidly out of her neck. He dialed 911 as quickly as he could, but it was already too late: Kim was dead by the time the phone started ringing.


	10. Chapter 9: The Myers House

Chapter 9

The Myers House

6:10 P.M.

Karl, Amber, and Stephen were having a grand old time. They had stopped at a convenience store to grab some energy drinks and were currently downing them in the waning sunlight, which was only a small, distant sliver in the sky. Karl held a Monster; Amber had an oversized AMP; and Stephen had a bottle of NOS. Amber opened her energy drink and began chugging the grape drink.

Karl and Stephen stood astonished as Amber finished the entire thing in mere seconds. She lowered the empty can and let out a belch that would give Larry the Cable Guy a run for his money. She then crushed the can against her forehead and tossed it over her shoulder.

"Damn, girl," Karl said.

Stephen stared wide eyed at Amber. "I love you," he said dazed.

"Thanks, boys," Amber said cheerfully. Karl and Stephen finished off their drinks.

"So where's this shortcut to the farm at?" Karl asked.

"Slater told me it was on the 100 block of Lampkin Lane," Stephen replied as he pulled out a slip of paper with directions on it. "He said there's a break in the houses and a slew of trees behind the abandoned property. Another break in the trees shows a dirt path that's a mile long and goes directly to the Tower Farm."

"I guess Slater knows what he's talking about; especially for a stoner." Amber retorted.

As they continued their walk, they had spotted several dozen trick-or-treaters. They ran up and down the streets and it seemed that they just walked up to random houses for their candy. But when they turned onto Lampkin Lane, there was nobody. It was unnaturally quiet. By the time they got to the house, the sky was dark. A few stars twinkled in the sky and the moon shone brightly, casting an eerie glow on the street. Ambulance sirens cut the night air. As the teens approached the 400 block, Karl began to realize which abandoned house Slater was talking about.

The house was a standard American style. It was a two story home with three windows on each floor going across the front of the house. The gutter on the porch roof was hanging off and threatening to fall. Several windows were busted out. The paint was peeling and the bushes were growing out of control. Wind blew through the broken windows and throughout the entire house, sending a chill up all three teenagers' spines.

It was the Myers House.

"Wow," Amber said. She had never seen the house before. "This is it."

Stephen pointed to a large gap between the Myers house and the one on the immediate right side; it looked like there had been a large garage there at one point. About thirty yards away, at the end of the clearing, was the tree line Slater mentioned. And, sure enough, there was the dirt path.

"There's the path, just like Slater said," Karl said as he began walking towards it.

"Hold on just a second," Stephen said without turning away from the house. "I want to check it out."

"No," Karl shouted. "Are you crazy? There's a reason this place is condemned!"

"Hey, it's just like any other haunted house. It'll be a good Halloween thrill."

Stephen took the first step towards the front porch. Then another. And another. Soon, he was walking up the steps onto the porch. Each step he took made the floorboards creak. He reached the front door and looked back. Karl was right behind him and Amber was behind him.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Stephen?" Amber asked, sounding a tad bit frightened.

"Of course," Stephen said as he pushed open the door, which creaked open slowly. Stephen peered into the darkness beyond it.

"Flashlight," he said to Amber. Amber reached into her coat and pulled out three small LED flashlights. She handed one to Stephen and another to Karl. Stephen turned on the light and entered first.

The inside was just as run-down as the outside. What had at one point been a beautiful entrance hallway was now a rundown shell of wood studs, and a set of steps with a once-ornately carved banister, now rotted to the point where it was barely fit to be driftwood, lead up to the second story.

To the immediate right of the entry hall was the living room, a decent-sized area with a dusty couch in the corner and cobwebs in every possible place. Boxes were packed and stacked in towers of three tall and littered all over the place.

Stephen shone his flashlight at the ceiling. The stucco ceiling was cracked and fractured, threatening to fall to the ground with the other large chunks already on the floor.

Stephen flipped a light switch on the wall near him; nothing.

Karl was the first to speak. "Nice place, Stephen. It's very homey." Amber and Stephen looked at Karl like he was crazy. "I meant in a Manson Family sort of way." Stephen snickered and continued. He shone his light up the stairs. He thought he heard a creaking noise above him and began ascending the steps to investigate.

"Hey, Stephen," Amber called. Stephen looked over at her; she was hunched over a box full of randomly assorted knickknacks, and in her hand was holding a framed photograph of a woman with blond hair. "Isn't that you're mom?"

Stephen took the photo from her and gave it a scrutinizing look. She was right. The photo was definitely of his mother, Kara Strode.

"Where did you find this?" Stephen asked.

"It was in this box," Amber said. She shone her flashlight at a box containing dozens of photos.

Stephen bent over and grabbed another photo. This one was of a young girl. She, too, had long brown hair; she also sported a barrette. She was wearing clothes similar to what Amber was wearing now. In fact, they even looked the same.

"Hey, Amber…" Stephen said softly. Amber looked up at him from the photo she was examining. "This girl looks exactly like you!"

Amber looked at the photo, let out a sarcastic chuckle, and threw up a certain finger in an offensive fashion.

"When and where?" Stephen joked.

Karl had joined them and picked up another photo. This photo was the only one in black and white. The woman in the photo was smiling and holding a pumpkin.

"I know that woman," Amber said. "That same photo is hanging up in your house, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Stephen said. "I think that's my mom's cousin. Her name is Laurie Strode, if I remember correctly."

Karl placed the photo back in the box and headed back for the stairs.

Amber wondered into the kitchen behind Stephen. The kitchen was in fairly better shape than the living room, but it wasn't saying much. The floor here was covered in a layer of grime so perfect that footprints were left wherever Stephen and Amber walked. The smell of mold filled the air and the walls bulged out and sagged as if they had suffered heavy water damage. The counters were filled with more trash, though there remained a clear spot near the counter where a large butcher's knife lay idly discarded.

Stephen approached the knife and reached out for it. The blade ran the full length of the contoured wooden handle, and seemed to fit perfectly in his masculine hands. It was almost as if it was made specifically for his hands…

"Stephen?"

Stephen turned around and looked at Amber, who stared at him blankly.

"What are you doing with that knife?"

Stephen looked at the knife and realized he was holding it upside down, pointing the blade at the floor. He seemed shocked for a moment, but quickly snapped out of it and nearly tossed the knife back on the counter.

"You think that's the one he used to, you know…" Stephen began. "To do his thing?"

"No," Amber said. "I've seen the knife. It's in an evidence locker up in Lockport."

Stephen let out a sigh of relief. It comforted him, but he wasn't sure why. He shone his light around the room and landed it on the large fridge next to the oven. Stephen opened the fridge and nearly vomited. There were several food items that were God-knows-how old. He shut the fridge and looked at the oven. He ran his hand along the stove and pulled it away; he found a hot spot on the metal right over the pilot light. He fiddled with the knobs, but there was no gas running to the stove. He opened the oven door and closed it, seeing nothing of interest.

"Find anything?" Amber asked softly. Stephen shook his head.

"No, there's nothing in there but a bunch of rotten food." Stephen took another glance around the room and left for the living room, sitting down on the old and dusty couch. Amber did the same, nestling her head on his shoulder.

"What are you thinking about?" Amber asked.

"I'm not sure. I mean, why are pictures of my mom and my aunt sitting in the home of the town serial killer?"

"Hey, I'm just a deputy's daughter. I don't know squat!" Amber laughed. Stephen, however, continued on seriously.

"I don't know what's going on here, and I won't pretend to know," he continued. "But my mom definitely knew the people who lived here. How, I'm not sure, but my family definitely has links to this place."

"Do you have any idea how sexy you get when you get frustrated?"

Stephen looked at Amber, who was chuckling silently.

"This isn't a time for joking around," Stephen said.

"I'm not joking, she said.

Amber leaned up and kissed Stephen on the lips, drawing out the moment as long as possible. She pulled back and began removing her boots as Stephen continued kissing the back of her neck. When she was finished, Amber took Stephen's hand and ran it over her chest while she took out her barrette with her free hand. She guided his hands under her shirt collar and down towards her…

"SHIT!"

Stephen jumped and pulled his hand out of Amber's shirt as Karl came running down the stairs with his flashlight in his hands.

"You guys won't fuck believe this!" Karl said. Amber put her shoes back on and followed Karl up the stairs. Halfway up, she turned back to Stephen.

"You coming, Stephen?" she asked.

"Yeah," Stephen said as he got up.

Karl led them into a bedroom. He picked up a photo album and handed it to Stephen. Stephen glanced at it and looked at Karl.

"Wow," he said sarcastically. "It's a book."

"Open it, smartass!" Karl demanded.

Stephen opened it to the center page and looked at the photos. One photo was of the woman in the black and white picture from downstairs. This picture was in color and the woman was holding a pair of twins. She looked like she had only aged a year or two.

"Look at the back of the photo," Karl said.

Stephen removed the photo from the book. On the back of the photo were three names: Keri Lloyd-Tate, 20; John Tate, 3 months; Jamie Lloyd, 3 months.

Stephen looked back at the photo. In the background was a jack-o-lantern, indicating the photo was taken around Halloween.

"This isn't Laurie Strode," Stephen said flatly.

"Of course it is, Stephen," Karl insisted. "They're exactly the same."

"The name on the back, genius," Stephen sharply pointed out.

"I don't get it. If it's the same woman, why is her name different? It doesn't make sense." Amber said.

"Maybe she witnessed a horrible crime and had to go into the Witness Protection Program?" Karl suggested hopefully.

"Even if that was the case, how come I've never met either of these two kids," Stephen countered. "It's not the same woman, I guarantee you."

BANG!

The loud noise startled the trio. Karl stood fast and leaned out the door. He looked down the stairs before returning to the room.

"We left the door open. The wind shut it." Karl said.

Nevertheless, Amber grabbed Stephen's hand and gripped it tightly

Amber whispered into Stephen's ear. "Don't let anything happen to me, Steve."

Stephen responded by gripping her hand tight.

"I say we get out of here, Stephen. We've done enough exploring for one night." Karl said worried as he glanced out the window.

"Why do you want to leave now? We're just now finding cool shit! You're not scared, are you Karl?" Stephen said, shining the light under his own chin.

"I want to leave because there is a jackass wearing a Michael Myers mask looking at us through the window."

Stephen walked over to the window and looked down into the yard. Sure enough, there was a man in a white mask staring at the same window where he stood.

Stephen turned and said, "Ok, let's go. We're going to miss the party." He walked out of the room, still holding Amber's hand. Karl followed after them, but stopped. He turned back to the photo album and grabbed it before running out the door.


	11. Chapter 10: Lost

Chapter 10

Lost

The Tower Farm

6:25 P.M.

The Tower Farm party was in full swing. People ranging in age from thirteen to twenty-five were partying the night away. Most of them were dressed in costumes. But a few of them were in plain clothes. A few girls dancing on a dinner table wore nothing more than their socks, Emily among them. Empty, full, and half-empty beer cans, bottles, and Dixie cups covered nearly every square inch of the house.

Slater made his way through the dense crowds, a Dixie cup full of homebrew in his hands. He wore a beret on his head and his long, wavy hair flowed from underneath it.

"Party on, man," he shouted to a nearby person dressed as a fairy. Emily turned to face Slater head on.

"I'm no man," she screamed in a drunken slur and grabbed her own breasts as if to prove it before walking off. Slater just smiled and, in his purple haze, said, "Whatever, man."

Carrie was too preoccupied to notice any of the festivities. At the moment, she was tied up with Travis. At the moment, they were alone in a bedroom at the back of the farmhouse. Travis was holding Carrie close to him, his arm draped across her belly and gripping it tightly.

Carrie sighed as Travis kissed her on the neck, smearing his expertly-applied Joker makeup.

"What's wrong?" Travis asked, never looking up.

"It's nothing. I just got a really bad feeling." Carrie replied.

"Bad like how?" Travis asked.

"I don't know," Carrie said. "It's, like, women's intuition or something like that."

"Well, don't let it bother you. It's probably nothing."

Carrie rolled over and faced Travis. "I hope you're right."

With that, Carrie leaned over and kissed him with such ferocity that it began making more than the hair on the back of Travis's neck stand up.

"You know, _Doc_, we've been searching this town all damn day and haven't found shit."

Sheriff Brackett was getting impatient with Loomis. Brackett had been driving his squad car around all day with Loomis in the passenger's seat.

"Are you sure Michael's here, Loomis? We haven't seen hide nor hair of him all day."

"I'm sure of it, Brackett," Loomis said. "I've studied this man for nearly a decade, and everything my grandfather told me about him is true. That he shows no pity, or remorse. No guilt or conscience, absolutely no sense of good or evil, right or wrong."

At that moment the police radio let out a garbled radio transmission at Brackett. Brackett picked up the mike and pressed the talk button.

"Say again, please," he said.

Radio Dispatcher: "Sheriff, we need you to respond to a 911 call at Kim's Auto Shop on East 9."

Brackett: "What is the nature of the emergency?"

Dispatcher: "Homicide."

Silence gripped the vehicle for five long seconds.

Loomis spoke first. "So what was it you said about not finding anything?" He then pulled out a large .44 revolver and checked to see that it was fully loaded before spinning it.

Brackett looked straight ahead with a panicked look on his face. He whipped the vehicle around in a 180 and turned on the noise and cherries, and then he sped down the road into the night.

Stephen and Amber walked slowly through the fog. Karl was right behind them. They had been walking for who knew how long now. They had gone too far to turn back in case they were lost. Amber clutched to Stephen's arm tightly. Clearly, she had been freaked out by what they all saw at the house.

Karl was a few steps behind them. He was perusing the album he swiped from the home and looking at all the pictures, hoping to make a connection.

"Hey, Stephen," he called out. "There's a picture of your mom with that Laurie Strode chick. You're right: they were cousins."

"Were?" Stephen and Amber stopped.

"Here's a picture of the two of them. They're younger, but still recognizable. Then there's this photo right alongside it. If I'm right, it means Laurie's dead."

Stephen looked at the photo. Sure enough, there was a photo of two tombstones side-by-side. The first one read, "Laurie Strode: 1961-1987: Wife and Mother." The second one was very disturbing.

It read, "Jamie Lloyd-Caruthers/Strode: 5/13/1981–10/30/1995: Sister, Mother."

"Well this is a very interesting clue. Jamie Lloyd died the day you were supposedly born." Amber chimed.

"An amazing coincidence," Stephen observed.

"Can we go now?" Amber asked. "These woods are really creeping me out."

Sheriff Brackett stood next to Kendall's body as it was carted into the back of the medical examiner's vehicle. Over near another body on the ground, an eighteen-year-old boy appeared to be sobbing into the arms of a female officer. Loomis was standing next to Brackett.

"Haven't seen anything like this in-"

"Ten years," both Brackett and Loomis said.

"I was there, too, remember?" Loomis noted.

"What the hell are we dealing with, Loomis?" Brackett asked. "How can a man do this?"

""Okay, you have to stop thinking that we're dealing with a normal man here. We're talking about a soulless killing machine driven by pure animal instinct."

The radio in Brackett's car chose that particular moment to begin squawking. Brackett walked back to his patrol car, opened the door and grabbed his radio.

"Brackett, we got a call about five minutes ago regarding a prowler and a possible break-in at the Myers place, possibly related."

Sheriff Brackett smiled and said, "Thank you." He looked over at Loomis.

"Loomis!" Brackett yelled. Loomis looked up from his conversation with Deputy Stubbs.

Brackett signaled for Loomis to approach him. Loomis walked up to the car to see what Brackett wanted.

"It looks like you're going to get more than you bargained for tonight, Loomis. We just got a call about a prowler and a possible break-in at the Myers home."

Loomis looked at Brackett in horror and whispered, "Goddamnit."

Brackett must have heard him, because as he walked away he shouted back, "God won't have anything to do with this town."

"I think the mist is starting to clear," Karl offered hopefully.

"No," Stephen said. "If anything, it's gotten thicker."

Amber was definitely scared now. "We're going in circles, Stephen."

"What makes you say that?" Stephen asked.

"Because we've already passed that dead skunk twice," she said, pointing to a skunk corpse nearby.

"Face it, Stephen," Karl said with less optimism. "We're lost. We've been walking for an hour already."

Stephen contemplated the options. If they kept going, they might wind up _very_ lost. If they stopped, they might not start moving again.

"Let's take a moment to rest and grab out bearings," he finally said. Immediately, Amber fell to the ground exhausted. Karl took the opportunity to look over the photo album more.

Stephen looked around for any sign of the farmhouse. He didn't get it. They should have been there in fifteen minutes. But the farm was nowhere in sight.

"Stephen," Karl called out. "Here's something else." Stephen sighed and walked back to Karl.

"I've been looking at this photo album. I've seen a dozen pictures of Kara before and after you were born. There's this one that looks like it was taken three days before Halloween…" Karl pulled out a photo of an entire family. Kara stood in the middle with a young boy in front of her. To her left was a grumpy looking, middle-aged man with short golden hair holding a woman who looked to be just as old. She wore coke-bottle glasses.

On Kara's right was a man with long brown hair and seemed to be a living embodiment of the grunge style of the mid-nineties. Not all that dissimilar to how Danny looked now...

"...and then there's this one, taken that Christmas judging by the dates at the bottom of the photos."

Karl removed a second photo and handed to Stephen. It also contained Kara, but she was holding a newborn baby.

"Don't you find it odd that she never appeared pregnant before Halloween that year and suddenly she has a newborn child? A son, it looks like?"

"What's the big deal?" Stephen asked. "She may have been babysitting." He said hopefully.

"Babysitting in every single photo of her afterwards?" Karl countered.

"No," Stephen said. "Are you suggesting that Kara isn't my real mom?"

"You don't find it odd at all that there are no photos in your house showing Kara carrying you? It doesn't bother you that Kara isn't pregnant in the Halloween photo or that you're not in it? The boy in the photo is too old to be you, so it has to be Danny!"

"Shut the fuck up, Karl!" Stephen shouted, startling Amber. "I've had enough of your fucking bullshit! I went to the Myers house looking for answers and all I found was a shitty fucking photo album and you trying to fucking build a fucking puzzle with pieces that fucking don't fucking exist!"

He intermittently punctuated his sentence by poking Karl in the chest with his finger.

"Stephen," Amber said with a frightened voice. "Calm down. It's just a suggestion. It doesn't mean anything."

"Look," Karl began. "I know this thing is making you a little crazy. But it just doesn't fit…"

Karl's words trailed off as Stephen was drawn to a new sound: the snapping of dead twigs. He was sure they were alone, but he definitely heard footsteps. He looked at Amber and Karl, but neither of them was moving.

The sound grew louder, closer. Stephen turned away from Karl and Amber to look for the source of the sound. Everything seemed to slow down, maybe even stop. He gazed through the fog. Movement caught his eyes. A dark shadow was moving in the mists.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" Karl's voice slowly drifted back to Stephen's senses. Stephen turned back slowly to his friends.

"Can anyone else hear that?" Stephen asked.

"I don't know! All I heard was me preaching to the motherfucking choir!" Karl yelled. "You know what, Stephen? I've had it with your bullshit! I'm fucking leaving!"

Stephen hadn't heard him. He was too busy concentrating on the sound again.

"Hey, fuck-face!" Karl yelled approaching Stephen with a fist. "I ain't done talking to…"

SNAP!

Karl stopped. He definitely heard it. He loosened his fist and walked up beside Stephen.

"You heard it too?" Stephen asked.

"Of course I heard it that time? How could you not? It was like it was right behind… Me!"

Karl dropped the photo album and turned around fast, but saw nothing.

"Stephen," Karl said, searching wildly for something, anything. "Let's get out of here!"

"I ain't going to argue with that!" Stephen said. He reached around for Amber. But she was gone.

"Hey, where's Amber?" Stephen asked.

Karl looked around him, but saw no trace of her. He shrugged his shoulders at Stephen.

"I have no clue. She was right there behind you before we heard that noise," Karl said.

Stephen opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by a terrified scream that seemed to echo everywhere.

"Was that…" Karl began, but he was cut off by another loud scream.

"Oh, no," Stephen said. The two broke into a run from a dead stop and chased after the source of the noise.


	12. Chapter 11: Back to the Myers House

Chapter 11

Back to the Myers House

The Myers Place

6:35 P.M.

Sheriff Brackett pulled the police cruiser to a stop across the street from the Myers House. He stopped the car and pulled the keys out of the ignition, then turned to Loomis.

"Got your gun loaded?" Loomis nodded and pulled out the .44 Magnum.

Brackett opened his door and put his hand on the butt of his weapon, ready to draw if necessary. He and Loomis walked up to the front steps slowly, taking into account the prowler could still be there. Brackett saw that the door was wide open. He pulled out his 9MM Glock and, whispered to Loomis, "Try to stay close." He grabbed a flashlight and turned it on.

Brackett pushed open the door and shone the light around the room while holding the gun, ready to fire at anything that moved. He stepped inside the house, searched for anything unordinary, then signaled for Loomis to follow him. Loomis stepped inside the house, gun drawn. Brackett signaled for Loomis to check upstairs. Loomis looked around and proceeded up the stairs. Brackett headed for the living room. He shone his light on the floor and his light caught something next to the couch. It was a small hair barrette. Brackett bent over to examine it closer. He noticed everything else had a layer of dust on it. But the barrette didn't, indicating it had been left here recently.

Brackett shone his light on a small box nearby. The box was full of pictures. Brackett noticed several fingerprints on several pictures. He sighed, but noted the box was still full, indicating nothing was taken.

Upstairs, Loomis was examining a bedroom. There had been fingerprints on the doorknob caked with dust, so he knew someone had been here recently. He opened the door and looked around into darkness. A small LED flashlight was shining brightly on the ground. Loomis picked it up and examined it. He held it up and shone it around the room. Seeing nothing, he left.

Back downstairs, Brackett had finished his sweep and was in the process of going upstairs when Loomis appeared.

"Find anything," Loomis asked.

"Nope," Brackett replied. "What about you?"

"Nothing…" Loomis replied. "…except several…"

"Fingerprints." Brackett said at the same time as Loomis.

"That means someone has definitely been here. Recently, too." Brackett exclaimed.

A garbled female voice sounded over Brackett's radio. He picked up his radio and replied.

"Say again, Corbett?"

Corbett: "Is everything alright at Myers, Brackett?"

"Yeah, there's nothing here…"

CRASH! Something loud disrupted the transmission. It sounded like a breaking window.

"Corbett, hold that thought." Brackett said. "Stay behind me, Loomis."

Brackett looked around for the source of the crash and walked towards the kitchen.

He entered the doorway and looked around. He saw the fridge door was slightly ajar. He walked around to the other side. The light was off and a tuft of hair was sticking out of the open door. Brackett took the barrel of his gun and used it to open the door.

"AAAAAGGGGHHHH!"

"Ahhhhh!" Brackett screamed and let out a shot into the wall as a teenage boy stepped out screaming and waving his hands. Somewhere off to the side, a light flashed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa sheriff," the boy screamed. "It was a joke, man!"

Brackett lowered his gun.

"Goddamnit, Jerome," Brackett screamed. "I fucking told you not to come back here!"

"Jesus Christ, man," Jerome screamed. "It was a Halloween prank! Mitchell and I-!"

"Well take your prank and your buddy Mitchell somewhere else!"

When Jerome didn't budge, he fired another shot into the ceiling.

Jerome ran for the broken window and, with the skill of an Olympic jumper, leaped through the jagged glass without cutting himself.

Brackett heard an "Umph" and assumed Jerome landed on Mitchell. Mitchell must have had a Polaroid because an undeveloped Polaroid picture fluttered into the window. As the two jokers ran off, Jerome yelled out, "Enjoy the picture, Sheriff!" The picture floated and landed just inside the window frame. Loomis picked it up and began shaking it, chuckling to himself.

Sheriff Brackett sighed as a garbled transmission came in over his radio.

"Yeah, everything's fine," he replied. "There's nothing here except a couple practical jokers. We're heading back to the station. Brackett out."

Brackett looked back at Loomis and said, "Let's go."

Loomis walked up to Brackett and showed him the now developed picture. Brackett looked like he was ready to shoot Jerome in the face.

"You always did take such nice pictures," Loomis laughed.

On his way out, Brackett failed to look down at the couch. If he had, he would have noticed the hair barrette was missing.

Meanwhile, deep under the house, there was a room nobody alive knew existed. This room was dingy and smelled like a sewer. It was also very dark. The concrete that formed the walls was crumbling and covered in slime. All over the room were rats, dead and alive. One specific rat scurried across the barren floor towards an object made of flesh. When it got close to the object, it began inspecting it. It put one clawed paw on a spot of skin and the thing twitched, sending the rat scurrying off in another direction.

Amber Foster lay bound and gagged on the cold concrete ground. She was semi-conscious and only dimly aware of her surroundings. Michael looked over at a broken concrete pillar that he had converted into a table. On this "table" was a photo. The photo was of a girl who looked exactly like Amber did now. Michael looked at the photo of his older sister remorsefully. Her name was Judith.

Michael remembered how it happened, too. He was six years old. He had the knife in his hand. She was sitting naked in her bedroom, brushing her hair: her long, beautiful brown hair. He remembered killing her, then running down the stairs and out the front door into the arms of his parents.

The memory brought further memories to the surface: Sam Loomis; Jamie Lloyd; Laurie Strode. It all came flooding back to him.

In a fit of rage, Michael swung his arm and knocked over the picture. It hit the ground with a resounding crash.

The crash either caused Amber to wake or she was already awake because she whimpered at the sound of the crash. Either way, Michael looked down and saw Amber was partially conscious.

Amber looked up at the picture. She then looked up and saw Michael looking down at her. He bent over far enough Amber could see something in his hand: her hair barrette. He tried to put it back on her, but she struggled and head-butted his hand. Angered, he kicked the picture at her face, causing her to shield her face from the glass by turning her head to the ground. She let out a quiet scream as Michael dropped the hair barrette and walked off into darkness. Amber looked down at the broken picture frame, eyeballing a large piece of broken glass.

Michael walked to the end of a long hallway. At the end of the hallway was a wrought iron gate, to the left of which was a ladder. He began climbing the ladder and came to a manhole six feet up. He pushed the manhole open and crawled through.

He came out on a small patch of grass where a garage had once been. He replaced the manhole and turned towards the woods.

A small sound distracted his attention. He turned to his right out at the street. He was partially hidden by an oak tree, but he could still see the road. A Pontiac Firebird was parked across the street. He eyed it suspiciously, but turned and disappeared into the misty woods.


	13. Chapter 12: To the Rescue

Chapter 12

To the Rescue

The Myers House

6:45 P.M.

Stephen and Karl emerged from the woods and raced across the field towards the Myers house. Stephen was slightly faster than Karl, but Karl managed to keep a good pace. Karl kicked something solid and was only aware of his falling a fraction of a second before catching a face full of dirt. He picked himself back up, not even bothering to look at what he had tripped over.

Stephen raced around to the front of the house and was prepared to kick in the door when he heard voices coming from the other side.

"There's someone in there!" Stephen whispered loudly. He motioned for Karl to move away from the door. Karl turned and ran for a nearby Pontiac Firebird, diving behind it. Stephen soon joined him a few seconds before a pair of teens began running away from the back of the house, followed shortly thereafter by a police officer and a man in a tan trench coat out the front door. Stephen looked around and noticed for the first time the police car parked in front of the house.

"That was a close one," Stephen remarked. "Didn't even see that fucking cop car."

"Me neither," Karl admitted. A few seconds later, the men entered the car and drove off at speed.

"If Amber was in the house, those guys would have found her." Stephen commented. "That means she's still in the woods."

"Stephen, get down," Karl whispered. Stephen peered around the car and saw a shape seemingly emerge from the ground in about the same spot where Karl had fallen earlier. As Stephen watched, the Shape crawled out of the ground like a man emerging from a grave. He stood up and took in a deep breath before bending back over the ground and replacing a large circular object: a manhole cover.

Stephen stood up to get a better look. In doing so, he stepped on a dead twig. The Shape turned and, for a fleeting second, Stephen saw his face clearly. It was the same face he saw outside the window earlier. It was a pure white Halloween mask with a thick bushel of messy brown hair. The Shape wore a dark blue pair of coveralls and large boots.

Instinctively, Stephen ducked back behind the car and didn't move, unsure if he was spotted. He signaled to Karl to peer out from behind the car and take a look. Karl nodded in understanding and slowly looked around the front fender of the car. He turned back to Stephen and quietly said, "He's walking back to the woods."

Stephen stood back up and gazed out through the car's windows. Sure enough, the Shape was gone, swallowed up by the mist.

"There's some kind of manhole in the field. I'll bet you anything that Amber's down there."

"We need to call the cops," Karl said. Stephen turned to Karl and shook his head.

"She'll be by the time they get here. We don't have that kind of time."

"What, you're not thinking of going in there, are you?" Stephen's silence answered him.

"Come on, Steve," Karl said softly. "This is suicide! You're smarter than this! Are you really going to just run in there, guns blazing, grab the girl, slay the monster, and walk out of the dragon's lair into the waiting arms of the police? I don't fucking think so!"

"It's a chance, but it's a chance I have to take. The moment you see him come back, get the fuck out of here. Make for the Tower Farm and tell Carrie what's going on."

Karl sat there and said nothing.

"Do you understand?"

Karl nodded.

"The cops will be waiting for you," Karl agreed. Stephen stood up and eyed the manhole. He walked around the car, looked for oncoming cars, and then made a dash for the manhole. He opened the lid, put his legs inside, and took a final look at Karl. Karl watched Stephen drop from sight.

Inside the manhole, Stephen was hit by foul smells of everything from rats to fish to rotten eggs. He was sure he heard water running and knew he must have been near the main sewer lines. He turned and was met by the wrought iron gate. He jiggled the gate, but saw it was locked tight. Disappointed, he turned and headed down the hallway. He pulled his flashlight out and turned it on.

"Hello?" Stephen called. "Is anyone down here?"

Getting no response except the occasional squeak of rats, he walked down the hallway into the darkness.

Eventually, he came to a candle-lit room. He turned and saw that there were not one, but two passages out of the room. He looked around for anything that indicated Amber was here. He shone the LED light on the ground. A piece of steel rebar jutted from the concrete and looped in a half-circle before going back into the ground. There were cut ropes, indicating that someone had been tied to the steel and used it to cut their way out. He then noticed a black hair barrette next to the rope. His mouth formed one word: "Amber."

He looked up and called out again. "Amber!"

He listened. A small shout came from the other passage. He called again.

"Amber!"

The scream came again. Not wasting a moment, he picked up the barrette and sprinted down the other passage. He came to a fork and looked left and right. He looked down and saw a trail of blood. It was small and looked like it came from a small cut, but it was invaluable. He followed the trail right.

Eventually, he came to the main sewer line. Water ran in the ditch next to the walkway. He looked up and saw another manhole and figured he must have been directly under the street in front of the Myers house. He called for Amber again.

"Amber, where are you?!"

"I'm down here," said a distant and frightened reply.

Stephen followed the voice again. He shone his light ahead of him and saw a figure limping towards him in darkness.

"Amber!" Stephen called.

"Stephen!" Amber cried as she half-ran, half-limped towards him.

"I thought I'd never see you again." He pulled out the barrette and placed it back in Amber's hair.

"He tried to kill me," Amber sobbed.

"There's another manhole down this way. I passed it a few minutes ago. Let's go!"

Stephen helped Amber grab onto him so he could carry her back to the manhole. When they got back to the manhole, Stephen heard footsteps. He looked down the passage to his right and gazed in wide-eye horror: someone was coming down the passage.

"Oh God; it's him," she yelled. As the Shape drew closer, Stephen could see the blood-stains on the white mask. It was definitely the Shape.

"Go! Get up there and close the manhole. Then, cover it with something heavy."

Amber was shocked.

"No! I'm not leaving you!" Amber shouted.

"GO!" With that, he leaned forward and gave Amber a short kiss. Then, he shoved Amber up the ladder to the manhole. She opened the manhole and crawled through. She then shut the lid, leaving Stephen trapped below.

Amber stood up and limped towards the Myers house.

"Help me!" Amber yelled. Out of the corner of her eye, a police cruiser entered her vision. The headlights flashed into her eyes... and she froze.

Deputy Greg Foster expected to see many things in his night out on patrol. He expected to see a dozen crackheads hassling young female trick-or-treaters. He expected to see someone he knew get shot and killed. He expected to see a worried mother flag him down because she was damn sure her child swallowed a razor blade when in reality, he was choking on an unpopped popcorn kernel that had somehow made its way into a Popcorn Ball. He did not expect to see his daughter run out in front of his car in the middle of a patrol.

That's why he was surprised when exactly that happened half a block away from the Myers house.

He had been driving down Lampkin Lane looking for people who had been giving trick-or-treaters some trouble when he saw someone limp out in front of his car. He slammed on the brakes and spilled hot coffee. Fortunately, it was almost empty, so none spilled on his lap. It all went in the floorboard. He cussed to himself and readied himself for anything before stepping out of the car. It wasn't until he had closed his door that he realized the person he had almost hit was his own daughter.

"Amber...?" Greg asked with caution. Amber looked up at her father, whom she seemed to only just now notice.

"Daddy..." Amber said breathless, her voice breaking.

"Baby, what are you doing here?" Greg asked as he led his daughter to the curbside and set her down. "Don't you know there's a killer loose?"

It was only then that Greg noticed how beaten up his daughter was. Her hair was frizzled and caked in blood, as was her leg. Her pink jacket was torn and she had a cut just above the top of her boots. She had a deep gash on her wrist and was bleeding heavily.

"Good God, Amber," Greg said softly. "What happened? Who did this?"

Amber choked on her breath before spitting out three words: "Michael. Michael Myers." Greg turned back to his car and grabbed his shotgun. He looked back at his daughter and asked, "Where is he?" His daughter shook her head and said, "Stephen…"

Greg had no clue what that meant. He got on his radio and called Sheriff Brackett.

"Brackett, this is Deputy Foster. Get a squad down here at the Myers place and get ready for a manhunt. It's an emergency."

He paused, as a new sound reached him. It was a ragged breathing, as if someone was gasping for air-

Greg turned his attention back to his daughter, who was now lying on her back, breathing hard. Horror came over Greg's face as his daughter began going into shock. He returned to his radio and began shouting, "…and get the fucking ambulances down here!"

He dropped the radio and ran back over to his daughter, removing his jacket and placing it over her.

"You're going to be alright, baby," he said softly as he moved his hand over her forehead.

His daughter began shaking uncontrollably. He tried to stop it, but her eyes were rolling into the back of her head.

Greg looked around and began screaming, "Somebody fucking help us!"

Back down in the sewer, Stephen prepared for his fight with the Shape. He pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and opened it.

"Come on, you sonofabitch!" The Shape was close enough now. Stephen lunged forward with the knife and caught The Shape on the forearm. The Shape receded before making a grab for the knife. Stephen backed away from the Shape's swipe, and tumbled to the ground, losing the knife from his grip. Stephen quickly looked around for another weapon as the Shape inched closer. He saw a rusty crowbar nearby and grabbed it as he came up.

Stephen swung the crowbar at the Shape and hit him in the side of the head. The Shape's head rolled with the blow before coming back to its original position, blood welling within the mask, seeping through the porous rubber and dripping out the bottom of the mask. Stephen prepared to swing again, but The Shape grabbed the crowbar and pried it from his grip. Myers grabbed Stephen by the neck, squeezing tightly… and then stopped.

He pulled Stephen's face so close to his that both of their eyes were less than an inch apart. Stephen, despite being on the verge of passing out, knew what was happening. He looked directly into those dark abysses that were the Shape's eyes, and caught a glimmer of something in the infinite blackness. What was it, though? Did Myers, if only for a millisecond, show a shred of humanity?

A millisecond was apparently enough, as Myers tossed Stephen into the wall of the sewer, banging his head on the concrete. Stephen watched Myers disappear into the darkness, before passing into darkness himself.

7:05

Sheriff Brackett surveyed the scene in front of the Myers house. Ambulances were everywhere, along with dozens of police cruisers and officers, cordoning off the area so nobody tampered with anything.

_God, this was getting out of hand. First was the gas station, now all of this! Involving my deputy's own daughter, none the less! How could this night get any worse?_

"I told you, didn't I?" Loomis said as he approached Brackett.

"It's like he's one step ahead of us," Brackett said. "It's like he knows what we're going to do before we do."

"He's got forty-four years on you, Lee," Loomis comforted. "But he'll slip up sooner or-"

"Sheriff Brackett!" Brackett turned at the sound of his name. It was a police officer by the name of Harry Manfredini. Harry was holding a struggling young man in his arms.

"Hold that thought, would you, Loomis?" Brackett asked as he walked over to the boy and the officer. He knelt down and stared at the teenager.

"Let me go, I haven't done anything!" the boy shouted.

"Oh, yeah? Then why were you running?" Harry asked.

"Because I was going to-"

"Hey," Brackett said. The boy calmed down. "What's your name?"

"Karl," the boy replied.

"Karl, what did you see tonight?" Brackett said. Karl remained silent.

"Where was he?" Brackett asked the officer.

"We found him running into the woods," Harry said. "We think he was trying to vandalize the house."

At that moment, Karl gut-punched the officer with his elbow and whirled around, grabbing the officer's gun before he fell to the ground in a coughing fit.

He pointed the gun at Brackett's head.

"If you know what's good for you, you won't follow me."

"Just calm down, kid. Everything's going to be okay. Just put the gun down…"

Karl fired a shot into the air. Brackett ducked down as Karl turned and ran off towards the woods. Brackett called for the boy to come back, but he had already disappeared into the trees.

"Harry," Brackett called. "Where does that road go?" He pointed to the dirt path that Karl had fled down.

"I think it goes by the Tower Farm!" Harry called.

"Shit!" Brackett muttered. "Alright, get a unit over there!" barked Brackett.

"Do you really think that's where he's headed?" Loomis asked as he approached Brackett.

"If not, then we'll save some lives by breaking up whatever party is going on over there."

He turned to Deputy Foster. "I want you to round up a group of men and search those woods!"

"And what exactly am I searching for?" Greg asked.

"The son of a bitch that almost killed your daughter," Brackett swore.

Foster nodded and turned towards the officers assembled at the scene. Brackett looked around and sighed. Somewhere, the sound of thunder echoed in the darkness. This was going to be a long night.


	14. Chapter 13: Into the Woods

Chapter 13

Into the Woods

7:10 P.M.

Greg Foster looked at his daughter in the ambulance. She had an oxygen mask over her face and was now unconscious. It was probably for the best given the amount of pain she must have been in. He leaned forward and kissed his daughter on the forehead. Silently, he let out a little prayer for his daughter.

When he was finished, he got out of the ambulance and helped the paramedic shut the doors. Staying with her wouldn't help her. Besides, Sheriff Brackett needed him. And that Loomis dude seemed like a nice guy.

He heard a low moaning from nearby and walked over to see who it was. Two paramedics from another ambulance were pulling out a teenage boy from the sewer line. He looked even worse than Amber did.

"Amber," the boy croaked. "Where's Amber?" His voice was very hoarse and quiet. He had a large gash on his forehead that was bleeding pretty badly but he seemed to be otherwise alright. The paramedics helped him into the back of the ambulance where they began dressing his head wound.

Deputy Foster walked over to the boy. "What's your name, son?"

"Stephen," the boy croaked back. "Where is Amber?"

"Try not to talk, Stephen," one of the medics said. "You may have a slight concussion. You'll be fine, but we're taking you to the hospital for observation."

"My daughter is on her way to the hospital. And that's where you're going." Foster said. "And you have to promise me, Stephen, that you're going to protect her. You got that?"

Stephen managed a weak nod as the paramedics pushed Foster out of the way to get inside the ambulance and close the door. They turned on their sirens and pulled away.

"Alright, listen up," Brackett began as he addressed the assembled police officers. "Most of you don't know shit from Shinola regarding what's been going on, so I'm going to level it for you. What we have here tonight is an escaped killer by the name of Michael Myers! He has killed at least seven people already and if left unstopped, maybe more! If you see Myers, shoot him in the head enough times to make sure that he wants to _stay_ down!"

7:12 P.M.

Karl moved swiftly through the giant trees. They were still surrounded in mist and it was difficult to see through them. Karl held the gun he swiped in his hand. He had checked it and it there were ten rounds loaded into the magazine, and he was prepared to use all ten of them to kill Myers. He pressed his back against a tree and peered around it. Ahead, he saw a light through the mists. He heard the distant thudding of bass and realized it was music. He was close to the Tower Farm!

He took a quick glance in all directions before making a mad dash for the farm. He broke through a growth of brushes and tripped to the ground in a clearing. He looked around and saw the farmhouse on the other side of the clearing, suspended in a haze by the fog. Dozens of cars were parked near the house along the road that ran up the side of a large fenced-in pond. The house, barn, and part of the grain silo were decorated with a myriad of Halloween decorations that detracted from the illusion of a haunted house, but still lent an air of creepiness to the grounds.

Karl stood to his feet and limped towards the house. The sound of an engine igniting caused his attention to divert. As he turned his head, his battered and bruised face was illuminated in the dim glow of a pair of yellow headlights. Karl squinted to make out the vehicle: it was the red Tahoe. Karl stared at the Tahoe in dumbfounded fascination, which suddenly turned on its brights as the driver gunned the engine and sped towards Karl.

Karl stared at the rapidly approaching vehicle for a moment before common sense told him to run. He made a dash for the farmhouse, making large zig-zags to keep the driver on his toes. Karl heard the Tahoe's engine whine louder as it gained speed, the anonymous driver keeping Karl in his sights. Karl was halfway across the field when he remembered the gun in his hands. He dove out of the way of the oncoming vehicle just as it was about to run him over and rolled onto the ground as the driver shot a quick u-turn in the dirt and stopped a few yards away from the house to observe his target for a moment before resuming the chase. Karl quickly raised the gun and fired off two shots at the vehicle. The front right side tire exploded and the car veered off course while the other shot went wide.

Having just bought himself a few seconds, Karl sprinted for the farmhouse as the driver regained control. He raised the gun at the driver and fired off another round. He wasn't sure if he had hit anything, but he realized that he was still too far away from the farmhouse and veered off towards the trees, hoping to lose the maniac in the brush. He suddenly found himself with a face full of dirt, his ankle throbbing in pain. He looked behind him and saw a small stump jutting from the ground. Beyond the stump, the Tahoe was waiting, its driver staring blankly at Karl before gunning the engine and bearing down on him for the final time. Karl, still on the ground, raised the gun, pointed it at the driver, and let out a primal scream of fear as he unleashed hell and the last six bullets into the driver of the Tahoe. The vehicle swerved violently and, as the driver lost control, eventually flipped sideways, tumbling over and over, and still making a beeline for Karl. The Tahoe did one, two, three, four flips by the time Karl realized what was happening. Karl knew he wasn't going to get out of the way in time, so he just closed his eyes and braced for impact. The last thing he saw before darkness overtook him was red.

WHAM!

Travis zipped up his pants as Carrie searched the floor for her glasses, which Travis accidentally knocked off her face at some point in the last ten minutes.

"Was that how you pictured your first time?" Travis asked cautiously.

"Something like that," Carrie chortled as she put her glasses back on. She smiled and ran her hand through her long hair. She pouted her lips, a sign that she wanted Travis to kiss her. He was leaning in for one when the echo of two gunshots and shattering glass breached their ears. Glass shattered to the floor as Travis pushed Carrie down back onto the bed as she screamed. Travis leapt up and out the broken window.

"Who the fuck shot at us?" he shouted.

"Hey, Carrie," Travis called. "Is that Karl?" Travis pointed to a figure running away from a fast-moving Tahoe.

"I think it is," Carrie replied. Travis knew he needed to act fast. He grabbed his jacket and bolted out the door. He brushed his way through the crowds of people when he saw Emily, who was still topless.

"Emily," Travis said, catching Emily's attention. "Get everyone's attention and tell them to get out of here!"

"What!" Emily said, not believing. "Why?"

"Because you're about to call the cops and report gunshots," Travis said. "Then get everyone out of here!"

Emily nodded as Travis ran out onto the porch, looking around for Karl. He finally relocated him nearing the edge of the clearing that happened to be furthest away from the house. Not wasting any time, Travis sprinted for Karl, who suddenly tripped over a tree stump, seemingly sealing his fate. Karl turned and fired off six more shots. They must have hit home, because the vehicle began swerving violently out of control, careening wildly and eventually flipping over and over towards Karl. Travis was soon yards away from Karl, then feet, inches, centimeters. Karl was firing away at the truck. Was he even aware of Travis's presence? The truck was so close; Travis could see the blackness in the driver's eyes. He dove for Karl and prepared himself for impact.

WHAM!

Carrie and Emily watched the whole thing while they were evacuating the farmhouse. Travis dived at Karl and tackled him as the Tahoe smashed into the tree stump. Carrie collapsed into the porch swing while Emily rushed towards the wreck, crying out for Karl. The Tahoe had a small fire burning now. The tree stump was on fire and Karl and Travis were nowhere to be seen. The Tahoe was smashed from stem-to-stern. There was no chance of the driver surviving, let alone the two teenage boys trapped under it. Emily let out an anguished scream and sank to her knees. Carrie came up behind her and grabbed her arm.

"We can't stay here," Carrie said. She pulled Emily to her knees and dragged her away from the carnage. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed.

Slater stumbled out of the front door of the house to watch Emily and Carrie run away. He started to call after them, but his purple haze caused the words to come out mumbled. Several people shoved him out of the way in their attempt to get out the door.

"What's all the running and shoving for, man?" Slater asked nobody in particular. Then he saw the fiery wreck. "Whoa, killer, man," he mumbled. He stumbled towards and began to reach for it when somebody grabbed his collar.

"Come on, man!" he shouted. "The cops are going to be all over this place in a few minutes and that truck's going to blow!" Slater didn't wait for an invitation, although he did hesitate in his haze for a moment before half running/half stumbling into the woods.

Light crept back into Karl's vision. He was only dimly aware of his immediate surroundings. He felt around for something to grab on to and pull himself out of the wreckage. He found a jagged piece of metal and pulled hard. He grunted as he tore himself free from the burning wreckage, crawling a few feet before collapsing exhausted on the grass. He took a long gasp of air and fluttered on the ground like a fish. He glanced at the pile of scrap metal that was once a red Tahoe and looked for the driver. He was either knocked out cold in the floorboards or had already been incinerated by the flames inside.

He tried to stand up, but his legs were like jelly and wouldn't let him. He cursed himself and tried again. He managed to stand for a few seconds and take a step before collapsing on his right leg. He tried over and over. Each time, a pain shot through his leg that was unimaginable. But before long, was able to take more than two steps without falling. However, despite the brief reprieve, he still fell. He looked down at his leg and saw why he couldn't stand.

His face turned to shock as he a jagged piece of metal sticking out of his leg, which was shredded to hell. Flaps of skin were flayed back, revealing several inches of exposed muscles and a few shards of poking bone. He grabbed the metal shard and winced as it shifted slightly, sending sharp pains through his leg. Manning up, he grabbed the shard and pulled, screaming as an inch-and-a-half of metal was extracted from his flesh.

A small explosion caused him to turn around. There was a small fire inside the Tahoe. Karl heard a loud coughing and realized he was not alone. Noticing the gun only an inch away, Karl tossed the shard and reached for the gun, pointing it at the vehicle. The coughing came again. Karl recognized it as…

"Travis!"

The coughing came again, followed by, "Karl!"

Travis came running around the side of the Tahoe, which was now fully engulfed in flames. Karl lowered the empty weapon as Travis limped over to Karl, who noticed that Travis's shoulder was cut to ribbons.

"You're bleedin, man," Karl said.

"I'll be fine; it's you I'm more worried about now." With that, Travis helped Karl up to his feet. Karl leaned on Travis like a crutch and hopped on his good leg as they hobbled into the woods.

"GODDAMNIT!"

"What?" Travis asked.

"My cell phone's shattered!" Karl mourned.

"Let's get you to the hospital." Travis said as he laughed.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure I'll make it there in one piece, though." Karl said ruefully.

Back inside the Tahoe (or what was left of it) a lone figure rested with his head against the back seat, unconscious. He was unaware of the carnage around him. Eventually, he felt the flames licking his face and woke with a start. He began moving frantically looking for the exit. He busted through the front windshield and crawled through the fire and the flames. He toppled out onto the ground in a heap, landing on the butt of a handgun. The mask was now melted, fused to his face, causing him to writhe in terrible agony. But he didn't scream; he couldn't. He looked up and saw flashing red and blue lights behind the trees. He got up and silently, and quickly, Michael Myers sank into the darkness of the forest.

7:24

Sheriff Brackett pulled his police car to a stop and quickly exited the vehicle. There were still people scrambling to escape the farmhouse and the fire not a hundred yards away. Brackett pulled out his gun and pointed it at the burning Tahoe.

"Get those kids outta here!" Brackett yelled at the officers. Several of them ran for the farmhouse while Greg Foster remained behind with Brackett, along with several others. They all had their guns out and pointed at the burning Tahoe.

"Joe, go check that wreck!" Brackett shouted. A young officer slowly approached the burning hulk with his gun drawn. The heat licked his face and he had to take a step back, but he still moved forward. He peered through the windows, but saw only the burning interior of the car.

"He's not in there, sheriff!"

"Fuck," Brackett cursed. Brackett was not thrilled with his only option: they now had to go into the woods…


	15. Chapter 14: Murder in the Woods

Chapter 14

Murder in the Woods

7:25 P.M.

"Alright, let's move in!" Brackett shouted. At once, a dozen officers marched into the trees. Brackett stayed behind to monitor the attack with Foster.

There were large group was divided into two groups: Alpha Company, and Bravo Company. There were exactly six men in each group. The leader of Alpha Company was a tall African named William L. Hubbard. He had dark brown hair in a buzz-cut, but you couldn't see it because it was covered by a jet-black helmet. He had a chiseled face that matched his heavily muscled body.

He held his Glock tight and looked around. His days as a member of S.W.A.T. were over, but muscle-memory was a powerful thing. Every time he passed a tree, he instinctively looked around it and kept nearly shouting "Clear!"

Bravo Company's leader, Zachary Weaver, was similar to Hubbard in that they had been on S.W.A.T. together. But that was where similarities ended. Whereas Hubbard was black, Zach was of Chinese descent. He had been born in America to parents who didn't speak a word of English, yet he spoke perfect English with little-to-no Chinese accent.

Zach stepped over dead leaves and branches, each making a cracking sound as he went. The eleven cops behind him. He was vigilant as he moved through the thick trees. Behind him, a cop sneezed. Zach turned and whispered, "Quiet," and returned to his search.

Over in Alpha Company, William noticed a sound ahead. He held up a hand, signaling for everyone to stop. The entire company stopped. William listened for the unusual sound again. It sounded like a muffled gurgle. Brushing it off, he signaled for the company to move forward again.

Zach heard the sound too. He turned around and instinctively did a head count. Somehow, he was one man short. He looked at the cop nearest him and whispered, "Where's Figg?"

The cop turned around and looked for the missing officer. He turned back and shrugged. Zach addressed his company.

"Everyone, keep your eyes peeled. There's something fishy going on here."

SNAP!

Zach turned on reflex and raised his gun. There was nothing there.

There it was again! The same sound he heard earlier came again, this time it was much closer. Zach couldn't ignore it anymore. He walked through his group and looked around. They had started with twelve men in the group. Now they were down to ten, including him. What was going on?

He examined the ground and placed his fingers in top of a leaf. Surprisingly, it was wet. The ground was thick with fog, he thought. Perhaps something had caused it to condense.

He pulled his fingers away from the leaf and stifled a gasp. His fingers were red with blood. He pulled out his Glock and looked around nervously. A cop named Deputy Charles Winston asked, "What's wrong?"

He responded with, "Stay close." With that, he began moving forward. The cops behind him formed a tight circle and followed Zach.

Not more than thirty yards away, Will was facing his own problems. Somehow, he had gotten separated from his group. All around him, he heard weird noises, along with the snapping of branches and twigs, as if someone was walking on them. He moved forward slowly.

He turned on the spot as the sound of gunfire reached his ears. Instantly, there were voices screaming and yelling through the fog. But the mist was fucking with the acoustics of the noise and William couldn't pinpoint the source. He started running in the direction he believed the noise came from.

Suddenly, he found himself facedown in a pile of wet mud. He lifted his face up and looked around. He stood up and drew his weapon when he saw a bloodied corpse of one of his men lying not two feet away. He realized the ground was muddy from all of the blood. The body had a large cut in his neck from one ear to the other. William looked around for the others. Seeing nobody, he started running again.

Meanwhile, Zach was facing his own problems. He had heard the gunfire and was trying to find William's group and as a result, got separated from his own. The only one left was Deputy Winston.

A gunshot rang out behind him and he turned to see a large man come up behind them and rip open Winston's throat with his hand. Shocked, Zach hesitated before opening fire. As a result, the man was gone by the time he squeezed off the bullet. The dying man's screams were so loud, Zach was sure Brackett would hear them and radio for help. He picked up his radio and called for Brackett.

"Brackett, I'm in some serious shit here!" Zach yelled. "I had visual on that Myers fucker, but lost contact! Repeat: no current visual!"

The only reply was static. "Brackett, if you can hear me, call for back up right no-" He was cut off by someone grabbing his mouth and pulling him backwards. He struggled against the man's grip, but it was no use. His head was tilted back forcefully and he saw a Shape standing over him. The face was as unholy as anything he had ever seen. It was shrouded in shadow, but it was very demonic. Even through the shadow, there was something different about the...

The Shape put his blade on the officer's throat and sliced it wide open. Zach's vision went black, and he struggled no more.

William was completely freaked out now. The gunfire had ceased, but so had the screams. And that told him everyone was now dead except for him. He called out for members of his team, but got no response. He looked around paranoid, waiting to encounter someone, hopefully a fellow officer. He had tried to raise Brackett on his radio, but all that came back was static. As a result, he had thrown his radio to the ground and smashed it. He heard the thick snapping of twigs and turned on the spot. There was nothing there. Then he saw a shadow moving in the mists. He raised his gun into the air and fired off three shots in rapid succession as a distress call.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The noise came once more. He turned and fired two more rounds into a moving shadow, but he never hit it. He moved forward towards the spot where he had seen the moving shadow. Suddenly, the shadows ahead of him moved. He raised his gun and fired off the last shot in his gun before being consumed by darkness. He felt a sharp, white-hot pain in his gut. He felt something warm rush out of his stomach. Even though he tried to hold himself together, he was still fading fast. The last thing he would ever see was a pearl-white face stained with red blood against the mist shrouded trees...

The Shape watched as his newest victim slumped to the ground in a heap. He perked up as he heard voices. There were more of them. He realized that they could wait for their turn at Death's door. Right now, he had other priorities. He turned and disappeared into the mist.

Brackett was the first on the scene. He looked down at William's body and turned it over. He covered his mouth as if he was about to barf. The smell was God awful. He turned to Foster and said, "Get to the hospital. You need to be with your daughter."

"But, Sheriff-" Foster began.

"Don't worry about it." Brackett said. "Our priority now making sure our loved ones are safe."

Thunder punctuated his words as Brackett stood up and walked back to the clearing with his head hung low. Things were bad and it was only a matter of time before they got worse. He knew it was inevitable that they would get that way, and the only thing he could do now was make sure the people he cared about weren't a part of it when it did. Once he was out of Foster's sight, rain began to pour.


	16. Chapter 15: Safe and Sound

Chapter 15

Safe and Sound

Haddonfield Memorial Hospital

7:30

Stephen slipped in and out of consciousness for nearly half an hour. He awoke to the steady BEEP-BEEP of an EKG monitor and the soft and fast, "tap-tap" of rain outside. He looked around him as faces came into focus. Voices were overlapping and Stephen began loosing consciousness again. He closed his eyes, as they hurt too much from the intense light over him, and fell back to unconsciousness.

Seconds, minutes, maybe hours later, Stephen awoke again. Everything was still blurred, but things quickly came into focus. The doctor was standing over him. As soon as Stephen saw him, the doctor took out a pen light and shone it in Stephen's eyes. He tried to close them, but the doctor held them open. After he checked both eyes, he wrote down on his clipboard and said, "No sign of brain trauma." Stephen shook his head as the doctor examined other parts of him.

Stephen was about to ask what was happening when the doctor introduced himself.

"Stephen," he said with a light Middle-Eastern accent. "I'm Dr. Patel. You've had quite a nasty bump to the head, but you'll be fine to go home in a few hours when the test results come back."

"Where's Amber?" Stephen moaned.

"The girl you came in with? She's fine; resting, like you should be." Dr. Patel answered.

Stephen suddenly remembered what had happened. He remembered being thrown into a wall so hard that it was like hitting a truck. He remembered Amber running up the manhole and out into safety. He remembered Karl…

"Karl… Where's Karl?" Stephen said, sounding confused as fuck. "What the fuck is going on? Where am I?"

"Calm down, Stephen," Dr. Patel said. "You're in a hospital. You're safe now."

Stephen sighed with relief. As Dr. Patel left, a familiar face came into the room. Stephen had to squint because his eyes still hurt.

"Hey, Stephen," said a voice. It was Carrie.

"What are you doing here?" Stephen asked weakly.

"Checking up on you, silly," Carrie laughed.

Stephen couldn't help but smile. Then, he remembered Amber.

"Is Amber…?" Stephen began. "Is Amber alright?"

"She's fine. She's asleep, resting next door." Carrie said. "You have another visitor waiting for you."

"Who?" Stephen asked weakly.

Another person walked into his frame of vision and knelt down by his bedside.

"Hey, bro," Danny said. His face was long and sorrowful, almost regretful. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I got the shit kicked out of me by some fucker in a mask, that's what happened!" Stephen's voice was raised. Danny sunk into a nearby chair and buried his face in his hands.

"Carrie, could you please leave us for a second," Danny asked. "I've got some things to talk to my brother about, privately."

Carrie nodded and quickly left the room.

"What's that all about?" Stephen asked.

"I'm not sure where to start," Danny admitted. Stephen could clearly see his brother was having a massive internal conflict.

"There are things that we, as in your mom and dad and I, haven't been completely honest about. I know who it was that attacked you."

"Michael Myers, wasn't it?" Stephen asked. "Of course you know; he's been all over the news."

"I know," Danny said slightly irritated at having been interrupted. "I know him because I've met him before!"

Stephen stared at Danny slightly dumbfounded.

"I was six years old. My mother and I had moved back to Haddonfield. That Halloween, Michael Myers came back and attacked us. They didn't tell me why, but mom did tell me that that night she met Tommy, our father, and they found this newborn child with a mark on his chest in the shape of a thorn…"

Stephen subconsciously moved his hand to his chest.

"That's the big revelation?" Stephen asked in disbelief. "I'm adopted?" He let out a hearty laugh. "I thought you were going to tell me that I was related to Michael Myers, like I was his son or something!"

Danny let out a healthy chuckle as well. "Yeah," he said with a laugh. "That would be fucked up!"

"So has anyone seen Karl?" Stephen asked.

Danny suddenly stopped smiling, the smile gone from his face. At that point, someone started crying softly. Stephen looked up to see Emily standing in the doorway. He hadn't even noticed he was there.

Stephen mustered whatever strength he could and sat up in the bed. "What happened?"

"Has nobody told you yet?" Danny asked.

"No. Told me what?"

"Uh, Stephen," Danny began. "Karl's dead. He got killed out by the Tower Farm. Travis tried to save him, but they think he got hit, too. They're both dead, Stephen."

It took a moment for those words to sink in. He had known Karl for years, but being teenagers they had no concept of their own mortality. Now that Karl was dead, that mortality was finally starting to sink in. His best friend was dead, and the bastard that did it was still out there…

Dr. Patel entered the break room where a middle-aged nurse named Betty was sitting at the table and watching some movie on the TV. On screen, a helicopter was flying over a vast, snow-covered expanse. Someone was leaning out the side of the copter and preparing to fire at something travelling across the snow. The pilot banked the copter as his passenger prepared to take a shot. The passenger's target was a black, grey, and white-colored Husky, taking bounding leaps across the white desert as it was being shot at.

Martin sat down next to Betty and watched the movie with her.

"So, how is the new girl?" Patel asked.

"She's making her rounds, checking on everybody. It's been a slow night, so it's been a perfect one for her to get some practice in before we have a rush like last year." Betty took a sip of her coffee as John Carpenter's "The Thing" continued playing. Just then, a young girl walked into the room, blond as butter, her tight scrubs revealing a woman with a perfect form. Terry Chaney was the new girl in question.

"Oh, is this 'The Thing?' I love this movie." Her expression quickly dropped. "Oh, it's over."

Patel and Betty both turned around to look at Terry, both with dumbfounded looks on their faces. Blond as butter, yes, and about half as bright to boot.

"It's not the prequel," Betty said. "It's John Carpenter's original."

"Who's John Carpenter?" Terry asked. It was at that point that Betty realized this new girl was hopeless, and returned to the movie.

"Dr. Patel, you're wanted in the emergency entrance lobby. Dr. Patel, to the emergency entrance lobby."

Patel groaned in displeasure when he was called over the P.A. system by the emergency entrance nurse. He stood up and made for the door.

"Shit, I'm gonna miss the good part," he said as he left the room. Terry immediately took his seat and watched the movie with Betty.

"Are all the patients doing alright?" she asked.

"All present and accounted for," Terry responded.

"What about the critical case? Is she still unconscious?"

"Yes, but she seemed to be in pain, so I gave her a shot of morphine."

"Good girl," Betty said. "Keep an eye on her, though, when you make your next round; she could go any second.

Terry began to nod, but was startled by a loud gunshot. She jumped in her seat and turned back to the TV to see the passenger fall to the ground with a bullet hole in his eye.

"Oh, poor Lars," Terry muttered. Again, Betty looked at Terry like she was crazy.


	17. Chapter 16: The Hospital

Chapter 16

The Hospital

7:38 P.M.

Loomis paced the hospital waiting room as he waited for Brackett to return. He glanced over at the night nurse, who was too busy shuffling papers to notice Loomis. Loomis had been waiting for nearly an hour and Brackett still hadn't shown up. He wondered vaguely if Brackett wasn't dead.

His thoughts were dismissed by the beeping sound the front door made when someone walked in. He looked up and saw Brackett and Deputy Foster walking side-by-side, both of them looking very grim. Brackett was covered head-to-toe in blood.

"What in God's name happened, Brackett?" Loomis asked loudly.

Brackett hesitated a moment. "Two more kids are missing; Karl Bennington and Travis E. Breck."

"We checked out that party Karl reported," Foster said. "That's where we found a red Tahoe that matches the description and license plate of the one stolen from the auto shop earlier."

"Did you find any…?" Loomis began.

"Bodies? Fortunately, no," Brackett said. "But we sent in over a dozen officers into those woods and none of them will be coming out alive."

"So you can chalk up another dozen to that body, Loomis!" Foster said angrily. "My daughter was almost one of them!"

"Calm down, Foster," Brackett said loudly, forcefully shoving Greg against the wall to remind him exactly who was boss. Greg slowly backed off as Brackett let go of him.

"Sheriff Brackett," said a voice from behind them.

On cue, all three of them turned to see a tall, thin, young-looking doctor approaching them. He was clearly if Indian descent. The first thing Brackett thought, oddly enough, was how much this guy looked exactly like Kumar from that movie. He even spoke perfect frickin English with no trace of a foreign accent.

"Excuse me, but visiting hours are over..." said the man.

He approached further, then saw the sheriff's badge.

"Oh, Sheriff Brackett, I couldn't tell it was you..." He pulled out a pair of glasses. "...without my glasses.

"Where in the hell is my daughter?" Foster demanded.

"And you are...?"

"Fucking Jehovah's Witness! Who the fuck are you?"

"Sorry for not introducing myself. I'm Dr. Martin Patel. It's a pleasure to meet all of you."

He held out his hand. All three of them shook it, but Foster reluctantly.

"I'm Dr. Jason Loom..."

"Loomis, yes." Patel said. "I'm a big fan of your uncle's work."

"Is Stephen okay?" Brackett asked.

"Yes, Stephen and Amber are just fine. But Amber isn't in any condition for visitors. However, if you could..." Foster didn't respond. He just walked off, entered his car outside, and drove off.

Once he was gone, Patel turned to Loomis and Brackett.

"Okay," he said. His tone shifted to one of severe annoyance. "Two teens arrive in a hospital at the same time. One has a large wound in his abdomen and the other one is in severe shock. What the hell happened to them?"

"It's kind of a long story," Brackett began. "The details of which are inconsequential, but the short version-"

"It was Michael Myers," Loomis interrupted.

Patel was silent for a moment, before, "You're pulling my leg, right? Michael Myers died ten years ago!"

"I thought so, too," Loomis said. "But someone's kept him alive for the last decade, and now he's back. He's already killed at least twenty-two people in the last twenty four hours, maybe more, and he's still loose."

"Oh shit… You're not kidding!"

"No, I wish we were, though. Michael Myers is out there tonight and if he's not stopped, dozens more will die." Brackett said.

"I've heard enough. I'll lock down the hospital," Patel said. "I'll put all the nurses on alert. Nobody gets in or out without going through security. If you need anything, here's my number."

He wrote a number down on a scratch of paper and handed it to Loomis before walking off.

Loomis and Brackett turned to each other and walked out the door to the squad car. Rain pelted them all the way to the car.

"If Michael is still out there, he is a danger to Stephen and Amber. We have to set a guard here."

"What under God in Heaven can be safer than a hospital?" Brackett asked.

Loomis looked at Brackett with a look that was so serious one couldn't help but laugh at it. Brackett, however, caught the message.

"Gotcha," he said. He grabbed his CB radio and spoke into it.

"Dispatch, this is Brackett." Static. He gave a quizzical look at Loomis before trying again. "Dispatch, do you read me? Corbett? Are you okay?"

At the other end of the line, the police station was dead. Literally! Papers were strewn everywhere, most of them covered in blood. Broken bodies lay in heaps all over the place. Corbett lay hidden under a desk, her blonde hair streaked red with blood. She whimpered as a clap of thunder filled the air. The lightning illuminated the dark room, showing Michael Myers standing behind the desk staring at the radio.

"Dispatch this is Brackett. Come back."

Corbett whimpered again as Brackett's voice reached her ears. She covered her mouth in fear, but it was too late. Suddenly, the desk was flipped over and she was exposed to Myers. She shrieked and ran off, but Michael caught her before she got too far. He pulled her back by her hair and she stumbled backwards… Right onto his waiting knife! The tip of the blade speared through her back, pierced her uterus, snuffing out two lives. The tip of the blade exited through her belly, dripping with blood. As blood poured from the exit wound, Corbett screamed for both her own life and the life her baby would never have.

Fortunately, Brackett never heard Corbett's dying screams. All he heard was static. He turned to Loomis with a somber look.

"Does this mean…?"

"It does, Brackett. It does." Loomis said.

Brackett jumped into the car and turned the ignition. Loomis calmly stepped inside and buckled his seatbelt. Both of them prayed they were wrong.


	18. Chapter 17: Home Invasion

Chapter 17

Home Invasion

7:30 P.M.

John Tate flipped his windshield wipers one final time after pulling into his driveway. Molly was asleep while Laurie was reading a book. Next to her was a large sack that was full of candy and a pile of birthday presents. John had been late picking them up from the party. He had snuck away to visit the graves of his mother Laurie and his older sister Jamie, and had barely gotten back in time.

John had learned he had a sister shortly after his mother was committed back in California. She had been only fifteen when she had been killed by Myers. It shocked him since she was only a year older than him when she died. He wondered why his mom had kept her a secret for so long. Only when his mother was buried did he learn where Jamie was buried. That same day, he bought the three plots next to his mom's so he and his family could be together forever. A tear came to his eye when he realized Laurie would never meet her aunt. She may not even know she had one since there were, obviously, no pictures,

The rain was still coming down hard. He pulled his key out of the ignition. He reached over at Molly and stroked her neck with his finger, moving her hair slightly. She smiled and giggled as John leaned over and kissed her.

Molly's blue eyes fluttered open as John pulled back.

"We're home?" Molly asked, still sleepy.

"Yeah," John replied in a whisper.

John handed Molly the key ring and got out. Laurie was already halfway to the door before Molly had even got out of the car. John unlocked the door and Laurie rushed in.

"I want you going straight to bed, Laurie, 'cause you got school in the morning," John demanded. "No candy until morning, and brush your teeth before you do anything else."

"Can I go take a shower first, Dear Leader?" Laurie quipped, smiling. John just rolled his eyes because he knew she got the smarmy attitude from him. Of course, he got it from his father, as well. His mother was always too uptight.

Ten minutes later, in the living room, Molly placed the candy on the coffee table and spilled it out before sitting on the couch. John sat next to her and she promptly propped her bare feet on his lap. She removed her sweater and tossed it on the armchair. It landed on the back of the seat and stuck there.

"Perfect ten, Molly," John joked.

"Let's see you do better, Mr. Tate," Molly challenged. She took off her spaghetti-strap shirt, leaving her purple bra exposed. She handed the shirt to John, who wadded it up into a ball. He looked around the room and spotted his target. He threw the shirt-ball and watched it unroll in mid-air and land on the coat hook just above the armchair where Molly's jacket lay. And there it stayed.

Molly looked at John and muttered, "Showoff."

"Yeah," John said. "But women love a showoff, right?"

Molly leaned forward. "That's right," she said. Molly grabbed a Tootsie Roll off the table, knowing what it was just by touching it. She unrolled it and placed it in Jon's mouth. Her lips met his and they engaged in a long, passionate kiss. By the time they broke the kiss, it was in her mouth.

John moved his tongue around his mouth, looked at his wife, and muttered, "Thief."

Molly snickered and replied, "Asshole."

She turned her attention back to the candy. There was so much of it; they could full a piñata with it three times over.

Molly grabbed another Tootsie Roll and opened it.

"Uh, oh," she said.

"What 'Uh, oh'?"

"This one's been opened. Laurie can't eat that one can she?"

John was slow to catch on, but after a few seconds of thought, caught the drift.

"Oh, okay. Like this…" John said, grabbing a brand-new pack of gum. He opened the gum and popped all five pieces into his mouth. "Could have been laced with poison."

"Or this…" Molly said taking a pumpkin-shaped sucker and popping it into her mouth.

John: "Or these popcorn-balls. Someone could have used glue instead of caramel."

Molly: "Well let's test it out." She grabbed a chunk of popcorn ball and placed it in her mouth without removing the large sucker.

For the next five minutes, Molly and John ate candy from Laurie's bag. At the end of it all, there was a small trashcan full of candy wrappers. John lay on the couch with Molly on top of him. She was back to him while he played with her golden hair.

"Do you ever think about what she must have been like?"

John looked at his wife with a stupid look.

"Your sister, Jamie. I bet she was very pretty."

"Mom said she was. She always regretted giving her up."

"When did she find out she was dead? Was it while we were still at school?"

"It was the day after Halloween about three years before... before that night. That was when the nightmares started getting bad."

"I wish I could have met her. She would have made a great aunt."

"I do, too. I love you," John said.

Molly felt her insides warm up as John spoke to her. "I love you more," she replied.

"Wanna bet?" John said.

Molly tilted her head back so John looked like he was upside-down.

"Yeah, I do." She smiled as John leaned forward and kissed her. She kissed for what felt like hours. Molly, still in her bra, repositioned herself so she was lying with her back to the ceiling. John caressed Molly's bare backside and finger-walked towards her waist. Molly took her soft, delicate hands and ran it up his big, strong arms. She could feel every muscle pulse with blood as her heart raced with excitement. She could feel his heart against hers. Her breathing intensified ad John ran his tough, yet gentile fingers under the waist of her jeans and over the string of fabric that was the waistband of her thong.

He massaged the flesh of her ass with the one hand while undoing her bra with the other. He kissed Molly's neckline as he pulled the bra away from her chest, allowing her beautiful breasts to bounce freely, and defy gravity. He tossed the bra away and it landed near the front door.

Molly stood up and walked into the middle of the living room. She faced John and hooked her thumbs into her jeans, wiggling around and slowly pulled the jeans down. John watched in fascination as Molly did her strip-tease for her husband. She slowly pulled the jeans to her ankles and seductively stepped out of them.

She walked back over to John and he pulled her to him. Now, her heart felt like it was going to explode from beating so fast. Her blood flowed with adrenaline, as did John's. In seconds, John was nude save for a pair of boxer shorts. John grabbed two handfuls of Molly's ass and caused her to moan in ecstasy. She gasped even louder as John pulled off her thong, then his boxers. She screamed as he filled her up with his flesh probe. She moved up and down as he thrust in and out of her. Sex for them hadn't been this good since before Laurie was conceived.

Molly and John both reached the breaking point. Molly held a hand over her mouth to avoid waking Laurie with her screams as John let loose with the flood. Molly slowed once she was sure John was finished, and then collapsed onto his chest. John grabbed a blanket on the back of the couch and covered Molly and himself with it. Molly held John close and fell asleep, using his chest as a pillow. Within seconds, John was out too.

7:45

The rain was coming down harder than before as Travis carried Karl out of the thick underbrush and onto the asphalt highway leading back into Haddonfield. It was stinging the exposed skin of Travis's neck as he looked around for the headlights of oncoming traffic. Not seeing anything, he turned back to Karl.

"Karl, wake up!" Karl mumbled something incoherent as Travis set him down on the shoulder of the road. Karl had apparently lost a lot of blood and wouldn't last much longer without medical attention. Travis ran out into the road, nearly getting hit by a passing MACK truck. Travis chased after the MACK truck, but it was too far away. Travis, disheartened, turned and yelled in despair.

"Someone help me! Anyone! Is there anyone out there?"

As he stumbled backwards, the blaring wail of police sirens reached his ears. He turned around to see a man he didn't recognize stumble out of the police car towards him. He was obviously a cop, but at this point Travis didn't care if it was a drunken hillbilly in a pickup made of scrap. The point is it was salvation.

"You got to fuckin help me. There's a kid over there on the shoulder and he's dying!"

Travis pointed to the spot where Karl lay bleeding. The rain made it difficult to see, but the officer saw the kid lying on the side of the road, nearly dead.

"Bring him here and I'll radio the station to inform the sheriff!"

Travis ran over to Karl and picked him up. "You're going to be fine, Karl. I'm going to get you a big, fucking cheeseburger and fries from McDonalds when we get back."

"Awesome..."

Travis arrived at the police cruiser as the officer finished fiddling with the radio.

"Can't get the station, so I'm going to take you straight to the hospital."

"Whatever," Travis yelled. "Just get us outta here!"

Karl crawled into the backseat of the police cruiser with Travis's help. Travis closed the door and ran around to the shotgun seat, hopped inside and closed the door. The officer turned on the noise and gunned the engine, roaring into the distance.

7:45 P.M.

John opened his eyes and saw Molly lying on his chest, her head rising and falling with his every breath. He kissed her forehead and she opened her eyes to look at him.

"Mmm, what time is it?" Molly mumbled.

"About 7:45. We should get into bed. I got to check in with Brackett in the morning."

"Brackett," Molly said stunned. "Why?"

"Have you forgotten already?" John asked.

CRASH!

Molly and John turned towards the garage, the source of the sound.

"Oh," Molly gasped.

"Relax," John said. "It's probably just a bird."

There was another loud crash, followed by glass breaking. That wasn't a bird.

"Get Laurie and lock yourself in the bedroom. Load the shotgun and be prepared for anything."

Molly jumped off of John, and hobbled to the bedroom.

John pulled on his shorts and got down on his knees. He put his hand under the couch and reached up into the support boards. He found what he was looking for and pulled out a large rifle. He grabbed one of the cushions and pulled open the zipper, stuck his hand inside and rooted around the stuffing before pulling out a handful of shells. He loaded the gun and walked towards the garage.

John used the rifle to push open the slightly ajar garage door. He pointed the gun around the garage, but saw nothing. Lowering the rifle, he opened the door the rest of the way with his hands and let out a deep sigh.

"Christ, John," he said to himself. "You're losing it."

John was about to turn around when a sharp pain exploded in his backside. He lunged forward and felt something exit his body. He turned around and saw the epitome of his nightmares standing in the doorway with a bloody knife in hand.

John painfully raised his rifle at Michael and fired, but missed in his daze. Michael walked forward and grabbed the rifle, prying it from John's hands. Michael tossed it to the ground where it discharged and shot John in the leg. John tried to run, but Myers was too fast. Michael grabbed John's hair and yanked him backwards. He took his knife and placed it on John's throat. John waited for the knife to move and end his miserably existence, but the killing slice didn't come.

KA-RACK! The sound of gunfire shocked John. He wrestled his way from Myers' grip and saw Molly holding the rifle.

"Get away from my husband, you monster!"

Myers turned to Molly. Most of his face was exposed and bloody because his mask had been blown half away by buckshot. Long black hair flowed over his face and a scraggly beard covered his chin.

And his eyes…

They were blue. Not black like had been described by many. His blue eyes pierced into Molly, filled with anger and hatred. And Myers unleashed his rage by opening his mouth full of dirty, rotting teeth, and let out a primal scream before lunging at Molly.

"No!" John screamed. He lunged at Myers and piggybacked Michael's shoulders, knocking him off balance. Michael fell backwards, but was able to turn his knife around in his hands. When he landed, the knife went straight into John's gut.

John screamed in agony as Molly fell to her knees and cried. She was too distracted to remember she had a gun in her arms. Myers was now starting to get up. He pulled the knife from John's stomach and looked at the dying man on the cold concrete. He took the knife and leaned towards John and placed the knife at his throat.

"Fuck you, Mikey..." John spat.

Michael sliced the knife across John's throat and watched him bleed to death. He stepped through the blood and into the house.

Molly ran out the door of the garage, gun still in her arms. She hobbled through the kitchen when she felt the cold steel of the blade pierce her arm. She pulled the knife from her arm, screaming in agony as she turned around to see Myers standing in the doorway.

"GO AWAY!" Molly screamed. Michael didn't respond; he just took a step forward. Molly went around to the other side of the kitchen island as Michael stalked through the kitchen. She held up the gun in her hands and attempted to fire it; CLICK! It was empty. She backed out of the kitchen and Myers followed. Molly ran into her daughter's room and slammed the door.

"LAURIE, WAKE UP! WAKE THE FUCK UP!"

The young girl awoke in her bed and sat up. "Mom, what's going on?" Laurie asked sleepily.

"Laurie," Molly said as she barricaded the door. "I want you to go out the window and run. Don't ask me where; just run and don't stop until you find help."

BANG! Outside, Michael banged on the door.

"Mom, where's dad?" Laurie asked frightened.

"Laurie, just do as I say," Molly yelled. Laurie walked over to the window and opened it. Molly ran over to the window to help her daughter over the sill. Behind Molly, Michael burst through the wooden door and tossed the barricade aside. Molly looked back to see Myers walk through the large hole in the wood. Realizing there was no time to waste, Molly shoved Laurie out the window and into the bush three feet below. Laurie rolled out of the shrubbery and looked back at the window. Molly began to crawl out the window herself, but Michael was faster; he grabbed Molly's hair and yanked back.

Laurie began crying loudly as Myers tossed Molly onto the window sill, slamming her head into the wooden frame. Molly, barely alive now, looked up at her daughter and, with her last breath breath before passing out, hoarsely whispered, "Run."

Laurie turned and ran around the house and out into the streets of Haddonfield, shouting for anyone to help her. Inside the house, Michael stared at the unconscious Molly and began mercilessly stabbing her.

"Help me!" the twelve year old girl screamed. She ran into the streets where people were turning on their porch lights to see the commotion. At the end of the block, there was an elderly man in a black coat running towards her.

"Please, you have to help me!" Laurie screamed. "He's killing her!"

"Who?" the man asked in a soft, commanding voice as she approached him. "Who's killing who?"

"This man in a mask, he's killing my mom and dad!"

"Michael," the man whispered. "Come with me, we'll keep you safe." With that, the old man led her down the street and into the night.


	19. Chapter 18: Reunited

Chapter 18

Reunited

7:50

Brackett's face was frozen in terror as he walked through the halls of the police station, his rifle in hand ready to shoot. Close behind him, Loomis held a six-shooter in one hand and a wood axe in the other, making him look like the stereotypical paranoid survivalist from some random zombie flick that he was.

"Oh, God! Corbett!"

Loomis turned to see Brackett standing over Corbett, her pale body stained red with blood. Her eyes were open, endlessly staring into space. She was propped up against an over turned desk with her intestines spilling out onto her lap from a large gash in her belly. Upon closer examination, Loomis thought he saw Corbett's unborn fetus resting among the offal. The sight made him turn away and retch into another pile of intestines. Lightning illuminated the dark room and thunder rumbled after it.

Brackett took two fingers and closed Corbett's eyes. He then said a silent prayer for Corbett and her child. _His_ child.

"Dear God, Loomis," Brackett whispered. "What in the hell could do this to a man?"

Loomis had turned back to Brackett while clearing away some bile left on his chin.

"Michael Myers is no man, and he hasn't been one for over fifty years. He is evil incarnate."

"Then how do we stop him? Goddamnit, Loomis, he's gone too far!" Brackett screamed. "He took my only son before he even had a chance to live!" Brackett suddenly burst into tears. He fell back to his knees and put his face in his hand.

Loomis didn't know what to say. He had never been in this position before. But he had to say something. He knelt down next to Brackett and began to speak.

"I swear, Brackett," Loomis began. "Michael Myers will pay for all of this."

"The only way this will ever be square is if Myers is dead by sunrise. I don't care if I spend all night hunting this motherfucker so long as my bullet is the one that kills him."

They both turned as the room was illuminated by the flashing red and blue lights of a police cruiser.

"Hot damn, I thought everyone was dead." Brackett said, so excited that all memories of the preceding seconds temporarily gone. Loomis followed him outside where two police vehicles waited with their cherries flashing.

Brackett approached the first vehicle as Deputy Foster stepped out. Only then did Brackett realize that the other car was an Illinois State Trooper vehicle. The Trooper stepped out of the driver's-side door and moved frantically towards Brackett, rain pelting him hard.

"You the sheriff?" the Trooper asked.

"Yeah, thank god you're here. It's a massacre in there." Brackett responded.

"Well we got a call from Foster here that there was some trouble. He led me here to the station, but from the way you're talking, I guess there's nothing left."

"No, nothing but piles of shredded flesh," Brackett said. "How many men you got?"

"I've got about ten of them patrolling the streets, making sure everyone out gets home safely, but if I hit the panic button, I can have a hundred more here within the hour."

"Better go ahead and press that button, officer." Brackett said.

"It's Murdoch," he said as he stepped back into his car and got on the radio.

"When did you find time to call in the State boys?" Brackett asked.

"After I left the hospital, I called it in. Sheriff..." Foster gave Brackett a fearful look. Then, he spoke.

"There's been another attack..."

7:52

Stephen lay in his hospital bed on the border of unconsciousness. Carrie sat in the chair next to him, watching him like a hawk. Emily was wondering the halls, bored out of her skull. The image of Travis and Karl crushed underneath the crashing Tahoe played in a continuous loop in her mind. She was remembering the last thing Travis had said to her: "Get everybody out of here." Teardrops welled up at the corner of her eyes, threatening to fall onto her clothes if she even blinked. She set her head down and began to cry softly, mourning her boyfriend's passing.

A hand touched her wrist and, for a moment, she thought Stephen had come out of unconsciousness to comfort her. She looked up and realized that Stephen was still out of it and that the hand belonged to someone else. She followed the arm up to the elbow, then the shoulder, where it connected to the torso of a very roughed up-looking kid.

Great, now she was imagining Travis in the hospital room with he-

Travis didn't have bandages on his body when he was at the party.

"TRAVIS!" Carrie shouted as she stood up and threw her arms around Travis in an extremely tight lovers embrace. Travis pulled her close to him and planted her entire face with kisses. Stephen was roused from hiss slumber by Carrie's shouts. His eyes darted around the room for a moment before settling on the embracing Carrie and Travis.

"What the hell happened to your face?" Stephen asked. "It got even uglier!"

"I'm fine, man," Travis said. "We're both fine."

"I thought you were dead!" Carrie shouted.

"I thought I was, too." Travis admitted.

"What happened? I saw both you and Karl…" Carrie stumbled on her words, not able to form the rest of the sentence.

"Where's Karl," Stephen finished for her. "Is he alright?"

"Karl's fine," Travis reassured them. "He fucked up his leg, but he'll live. He'll be limping around the rest of his life, though."

"Can we go see him?" Stephen asked.

"Sophie's in there right now," Travis said. "Been there from the moment they brought us in."

"Wow," Carrie said. "She cares more for him than she lets on."

7:52

Loomis and Brackett pulled into John and Molly's drive way, only to be met with dozens more State Troopers. Ambulances were everywhere and police were walking in and coming out with trash bags around their mouths, filled with bile. He pulled aside one of his deputies, grabbing him by the arm. The corners of the deputy's mouth were dripping with vomit.

"What happened?" Brackett asked.

"It's awful, Brackett. It's..." The deputy looked like he was about to puke again.

"It's alright, man. Let it out; it'll help." Loomis said. The deputy doubled over and heaved on the lawn. When he was done purging himself, he stood straight again.

"We got a call from a neighbor about shots fired. Leigh, its John Tate..."

"Shit," Brackett exclaimed. "How many bodies did you find?" The deputy doubled over again before he could answer, but held up two fingers.

Brackett felt the bottom drop from his gut as he went inside. A bag of candy lay strewn on the floor and several articles of clothing were lying on the floor. A small trail of bloody footprints led from the door into the kitchen. Brackett followed them through the house and saw the source of the blood.

There was a small pool of it surrounding the body of John Tate. Suddenly, Loomis was beside him. Brackett surveyed the scene. Tate's body lay at an awkward angle; there was a chip in the wall from buckshot; yesterday's newspaper lay on the crumpled floor; and Michael's mask lay in tatters next to John.

"Jesus Christ, Loomis!" Brackett exclaimed silently. "Why would a man do this?"

"I already told you, Brackett," Loomis replied. "Myers is no man. He. Is. A monster."

"Sheriff, better come look at this," said a deputy's voice. Brackett and Loomis followed the deputy into a young girl's room. Brackett saw a large bloodstain on the floor underneath the window, bit there were no signs of whom the blood belonged to, or of the owner of the room.

"Looks like somebody's missing from the party, Loomis," Brackett said. He looked around and saw a picture of the Tate family on the wall. There was John and Molly on either side of the photo and a young girl in the center between them.

"We need to find this girl, get her off the streets, someplace safe," Loomis said.

"Safety is an illusion tonight, doctor," Brackett said grimly. He looked up at Loomis, who was looking even more grim than he was.

Brackett took the photo and handed it to a deputy. "I want you to find this girl. I don't care how, just do it."

"Right away, Brackett," the man said.

"Sheriff," called another voice. "We got a lead. A drug store just got broken into."

"What in the hell makes you think it's related?"

"The place carried those Silver Shamrock Michael Myers masks. The clerk reports one was stolen..."

"Alright, get some men on it," Brackett ordered.

As Brackett followed the officer back into the house, Loomis pulled out his cell phone. He dialed a number and held the phone to his ear. It rang and rang, but there was no answer from Nelson's end of the line. Loomis hung up the phone and cursed.


	20. Chapter 19: A Moment of Peace

Chapter 19

A Moment of Peace…

7:54

Emily sat in Karl's room with her arms crossed on Karl's bed. She had long since changed out of her costume and back into normal clothes, which consisted of faded blue jeans and a black low-cut shirt with a black-and-white image of Hermione Granger taking up the entire left side. Her head was resting on her forearms as Karl lay in deep sleep. Emily vaguely wondered what was going through Karl's mind and if she was part of his subconscious train of thought.

Emily put her face into her arms and closed her eyes, her mind drifting back to the party: the Tahoe flipping end over end towards Karl and Travis; the memory of someone screaming as the SUV landed on the two boys; the cops sirens and lights blazing out of the trees. It all seemed like an eternity ago.

A soft moan brought Emily back to earth. She lifted her head up so fast that her neck muscles pinched, sending sharp pain through her neck.

"Ouch," Emily whimpered as she rubbed her neck with her hand.

"Emily?"

Emily looked up at Karl, who was sitting upright in his clothes. Emily noted the large rips in his "HALO 3: ODST" t-shirt, exposing the six-pack abs beneath. His jeans were still on, albeit with only one leg. The other was cut off just above the shin. The rest was wrapped in blood-red bandages.

Karl looked down at his leg and covered it up.

"Sorry you saw that," Karl said, covering up his grotesque leg.

"It's alright." Emily said. "It's actually kinda cool."

"Hurt your neck?" Karl asked. Emily realized she was still rubbing her neck.

"Yeah," she said. She pulled her hand away from her neck.

"How long were you sitting there?" Karl asked.

Emily thought for a second. "Since they brought you in from surgery," Emily replied. "And that wasn't too long ago."

"Why," Karl asked. "I was under the impression you hated me."

"What the hell made you think that?" Emily asked nervously after a beat.

"I heard you talking with Carrie in the hall at school yesterday."

"Oh shit, you did?" Emily asked. Karl nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Why do you feel that way about me?" Karl asked.

"Listen," Emily said. "However I looked at you, whatever I thought of you before tonight... It doesn't matter anymore. After what I saw tonight, I realized that maybe I was too picky when it came to boyfriends. Maybe I shouldn't have judged you."

"Is that an apology?"

"Kinda..." Emily said.

"It's the worst one I ever heard. Like something out of a daytime soap," Karl said. Emily's face dropped. "But it got the point across."

Emily looked up and flashed Karl a big, braces-bearing smile. Their eyes met and, for a brief instant, Emily had the strongest urge to lean forward and kiss Karl. The thought had barely left her mind when something wet touched her lips. It took her mind a few seconds to catch up with her and realize that Karl was kissing her.

Yesterday (or this morning, for that matter), Emily would have backed away from such a gesture and then, just to add insult to injury, proceeded to shout obscenities at Karl and publicly humiliated him. But here, now, at this moment in time, in this place, she just let it go.

She put her soft, delicate hand on Karl's cheek, running her smooth fingers down to his shoulders. He returned the gesture by placing his hand on the back of her neck. Emily then noticed that it didn't hurt anymore. Either the pain had gone away or the passion building in her heart by Karl's kiss had banished the thought of it from her mind. Emily believed it was the latter.


	21. Chapter 20: In a Time of Chaos

Chapter 20

…In A Time of Chaos

8:12

The rain had stopped, but the thunder and lightning continued. Brackett pulled his police cruiser up to the curb next to Vincent's Drugstore. The store had been around since at least '43 and had gone through several owners. Nobody was quite sure who "Vincent" actually was.

Several Illinois State Troopers were patrolling the area and a county morgue van was parked out front. The mortician was wheeling out a body covered with white sheet with red blotches. Loomis walked up to the window and stepped through a broken pane to enter the store. He took a cursory look around and spotted a rack of Silver Shamrock masks that had been knocked over. Witch, pumpkin, and skeleton masks lay in heaps while a few others were scattered about. Loomis was probably the only one to notice that the only mask not present on the toppled rack was the Myers mask that had put the company at the center of controversy. Satisfied with his initial inspection, Loomis returned outside through the broken pane and stood in the busy street. As he looked up and down the road, he spotted several news vans parked down the street. Loomis nudged Brackett in the arm. Brackett turned to see Loomis jerking his head towards the vans. Brackett let out a silent curse and marched towards them.

Carson Fields was having trouble setting up his camera equipment. His boss, the ever lovely Shirley Manson (not the same Shirley Manson that sings for the rock band "Garbage," which Carson thoroughly enjoyed and, coincidentally, was now playing on his iPod) had ordered him to get everything set up for their live 9:05 broadcast. The only things keeping him from strangling Boss-Shirley with all of the power cords in the van were A: his large paycheck, and B: Singer-Shirley keeping him calm by serenading him with "I'm Only Happy When It Rains," which Carson was singing along with. Terribly, by the way, since he didn't know the words.

He looked around the van for the camera tripod in the mess that was the floor of the mobile newsroom. There were TV monitors, antennae arrays, video cables and videos everywhere. It was a wonder he was able to find his "HALO 3: ODST" skull cap (which was perched atop the tripod in question, even if Carson didn't see it). He grabbed the skull cap and pulled it down over his mop of long curly hair. He looked around and kicked himself in the head when he found the tripod. He banged his head on the door when he heard a shrill voice shout his name: "Carson!"

Carson pulled his head out the door to see a fairly well dressed cop standing next to Shirley, who even resembled her rock-star counterpart. The cop was about Carson's height, but about a third his size (Carson was a big dude).

"Listen, Mr. Brackett-"

"_Sheriff_ Brackett!"

"Is there any way we can convince you to let us shoot..."

"No," said the cop, Brackett. "You can shoot whatever the hell you want, but the police are keeping a lid on this, I mean total media blackout, until we know what the fuck is going on tonight!"

Brackett turned to walk off, paused, and then turned to Carson.

"And you can quote me on _that_."

With that, he turned and walked away.

After an awkward silence, Carson spoke. "Well, at least we got _something_ to give the studio."

Shirley turned to Carson and gave him a glare. She then slapped him hard. When Carson regained his composure, Shirley had her finger pointed at him.

"Now listen here, buddy," she said. "I'd do anything, even suck Walter Cronkite's dick, to get the job of anchorwoman for Haddonfield news. The last thing I need now is your smartass remarks. Now roll the fucking camera."

Carson pulled out the camera and propped it on his shoulder. In his headset, he heard Haddonfield News Anchorman Ron Cisco introducing Shirley.

"And now we're going live to Shirley Manson in downtown Haddonfield for more on the latest Halloween Murders. Shirley?"

Carson hit the button and began broadcasting.

"Thank you, Ron. I'm standing here outside Vincent's Drugstore, moments ago, an unidentified assailant broke in, attacked and killed a clerk, and stole several items, believed to include a Halloween mask, a length of rope, and a couple of knives. This comes on the heels of a string of other incidents that are reported to have been Halloween pranks by the town's adolescent population. But is this latest incident an attempted prank gone wrong, or the beginning of something far more sinister?"

Back at Vincent's Drug, Brackett saw the broadcast on a TV sitting in the shop window.

"Police have not commented on the incidents yet, but young Sheriff Lee Brackett is expected to make a statement... Ahhh!"

The ground rushed up to meet the camera as Brackett rushed into the frame and clocked the cameraman. The footage went to static.

"What the fuck was that?" Carson said.

"Nothing against you, I just can't hit a woman no matter how much of a bitch she is!" Brackett said.

"Fuck me!" Carson yelled, holding his bloody nose.

"Look, buster," Shirley said.

"Don't 'buster' me, bitch!" Brackett yelled. "I won't tolerate anyone making a fool of me in my town." By now, Carson had gotten his secondary camera and was preparing to link up with the station.

"Listen, Lee," Loomis said as he approached Brackett and put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him aside. "This may be our chance to get the word out."

"Loomis, if you do this, it will create panic. Do you want lynch mobs roaming the streets, pulling out and killing anyone wearing a Michael Myers mask, no matter how young they are?"

"At least twenty-five people are dead. The time for secrecy is over."

Loomis turned to the camera. "Are you rolling yet?"

"And we're live in three… two… one…"

Shirley weaseled her way back into the frame before Loomis could begin, but he didn't seem to be annoyed like Brackett, who was emoting angrily behind him as the camera rolled live.

"Sorry about that cut out, Ron, but I'm here standing in front of Vincent's Drugstore with…"

Shirley aimed the mic at Loomis, who leaned into it and began speaking.

"Uh, I'm Dr. Jason Loomis of Smith's Grove Sanitarium."

"Doctor, what can you tell me about what's going on tonight?"

"Uhm, well, first I should say that what is going on here at the drugstore is not a prank gone wrong. It was murder, at least the twenty-fifth in the last twenty-four hours."

"Murder?" Shirley asked shocked. "Is there a suspect in custody?"

"There is no suspect; we know who did this: it was Michael Myers."

The noise Loomis heard at that precise moment was the sound of every person in Haddonfield gasping simultaneously as they watched their televisions.

"Michael Myers? But he died ten years ago, didn't he?"

"So someone had us believe. I was deceived myself. But I am here to inform the people of Haddonfield that Michael Myers has, indeed, returned to the streets. I am encouraging everyone to lock their doors, bolt their windows, and turn off the lights. Michael Myers is dangerous and merciless, but I can assure you that the Haddonfield Police Department, in cooperation with county, State, and Federal troopers, is doing everything possible to bring this man, this monster, to justice."

"Reporting from Downtown Haddonfield, I'm Shirley Manson, Haddonfield Local News." Carson stopped recording as Shirley lowered the microphone.

"This is really serious, isn't?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Loomis said. "I would suggest you get back to your studio and broadcast this as soon as possible."

"Don't have to; that was live." Shirley said as she signaled to Carson and hopped back in the van, driving off before another word could be said.

Brackett looked over at Loomis. "I sure hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I," Loomis said.

Emily was sitting on Karl's lap, one leg on either side of him. He ran his hand down her spine, sending shivers up it. She leaned back and pulled off her "Harry Potter" shirt, tossing it aside, revealing a brilliant silver-ish bra. Emily leaned back down and allowed Karl to kiss her neck, turning her on faster than a five-year-old turns on a Game Boy.

Karl sat up as best he could and pulled her closer to him, using one hand to massage her face and the other to undo her bra clasp. She leaned backwards as the bra fell away, revealing two small, but well-formed breasts. Karl instantly knew he was in heaven. Emily stood up on the bed and undid her jeans, pulling them down in a seductive manner. She then tossed her pink panties at Karl's face, who was too stunned to do anything else except sit there, the part of his face not covered by the pink cloth exposing the goofiest stupid-innocent look the world had ever seen.

Emily knelt down over Karl as he unbuttoned his jeans.

_This is it,_ he thought. _I'm about to get laid!_

He pulled down his jeans, revealing eight inches of hard steel. Emily crawled on all fours over to him and sat herself down on Karl's pelvis. She suppressed a small moan of pleasure as Karl began thrusting in her. Within minutes, Emily was experiencing her first orgasm.

She grabbed Karl's hand and gripped it tightly. He did likewise, interlocking their fingers as Emily let the pleasure flow through every orifice she had.

She arched her back and screamed as she felt Karl explode inside her. She sat there for a moment, mind elsewhere. She then floated back down to earth and felt herself relax as she lay down on the bed and draped her hand across Karl's chest. Karl pulled her close and they both fell asleep instantly.


	22. Chapter 21: Crossing the Line

Chapter 21

Crossing the Line

The Myers House

8:20

In the hour that had come to pass since the last police officer left, the Myers Home had become a desolate place once more. All traces that the police had been there in the last hour and an half were gone, save for a few strands of yellow "Do Not Cross" tape that criss-crossed the property.

Carson pulled the news van up to the curb and shut off the engine outside the home. He took a good long look at the house, windows busted and vines everywhere.

"Do you really think this is a good idea, Shirley?" Carson asked. "I mean, the guy is still loose."

"Carson," Shirley said in a faux-sweet voice that she used when lulling Carson into a false sense of security. "When have I ever lied to you? When have I put you in harm's way specifically for my own personal gain?"

After a brief pause, Carson spoke: "Ten minutes ago," he said while getting out of the car. Fortunately, he had wised up to the charade. He went around to the back of the vehicle and opened the sliding door to the van. He grabbed the camera and went around to where Shirley was standing near the porch. He put the camera on his shoulder and began rolling.

"Standing behind me is the infamous Myers home, where, in 1963, a young boy turned brutally violent and murdered his sister. Now, over forty years after the incident, we are still haunted by the person responsible. Michael Myers has killed a reported twenty-five people since his escape from Smith's Grove Sanitarium last night. Among those numbers are several members of Haddonfield's police force. But what motivates Myers to do this? Join us as we take a look inside the Myers Home."

Shirley turned around and moved towards the house, Carson following her with the camera on his shoulders. Shirley walked up the steps to the porch and opened the door.

Back at the drug store, Brackett and several others huddled around a television set in the drug store's break room. They were all watching the news cast. Brackett stared in disbelief.

"Get a unit over there now," Brackett barked at nobody in particular.

"In here, we obviously have the living room." Carson kept Shirley in his viewfinder as she pointed out the obvious. "Over there are the stairs leading up to the bedroom where Judith Margaret Myers was stabbed numerous times, resulting in her death, forty-seven years ago to the day. Let's go, shall we?"

No sooner had she finished that sentence than a loud bang above startled them. Carson turned the camera to see a head bounce down the steps. It landed at an awkward angle at Carson's feet; he then looked down with his camera at the severed head. A few brief beats later, Shirley screamed.

Brackett stared in horror! "That's Jerome!"

Loomis saw the footage and grabbed a nearby shotgun. He checked to see if it was loaded, then grabbed Brackett's car keys. Brackett turned and saw Loomis run for the car.

"Loomis! Get back here!"

Loomis jumped in the car, turned on the sirens, and disappeared.

Brackett returned his attention to the screen.

Shirley screamed. Carson looked up to see a menacing figure in a white mask standing at the peak of the stairs: Michael Myers. Myers came down quickly, with a bloody wire in his hands. Behind him was another body, bloodied beyond recognition.

Carson stood frozen in place. Myers was now only a few steps away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shirley make a run for the door. Myers grabbed Carson by the neck. Carson dropped the camera, which hit the ground hard. The red light blinked off. Carson never saw it blink back on. In fact, he never saw anything again.

Brackett had seen it all. The camera was still going live as Carson's neck crushed before the eyes of everyone watching the news that evening. Brackett turned to his men and began barking orders.

"I want someone to get to the Myers house and help Loomis! I want men stationed round the clock everywhere public! That means hospitals, convenience stores, Wal-Mart, everywhere people go! I want security in this town so tight that a worm couldn't take a shit without us knowing about it! Let's go!"

Shirley watched helplessly as Myers crushed Carson's windpipe with one hand. He dropped Carson to the floor. Carson's head landed next to the still rolling video camera. Shirley ran over to the couch and cowered to the floor. Myers reached into pocket and pulled out a large, gleaming knife. Shirley huddled into the fetal position as Myers raised the knife high.

BANG! BOOM!

The sound of the door breaking open was only drowned out by the sound of the shotgun blast that followed. Myers stood motionless for a moment before collapsing to his knees. His eyes met Shirley's and he made a final lunge for her. The knife's blade entered her gut as Myers fell to the floor. Shirley screamed in terror and pain. The last thing she saw before darkness was the figure of a tall man in a trench coat running towards her, a shotgun in hand. Then, things became blurry, and finally dark.


	23. Chapter 22: The Curse of Thorn

Chapter 22

The Curse of Thorn

The Myers House

8:25 P.M.

It was chaos outside of the Myers house. Police cars were parked in every direction and, amidst it all, Brackett watched Loomis emerge from the house with the shotgun in hand. Underneath his arm was Shirley, who was bleeding something awful. She had a knife jutting from her stomach. Brackett rushed over to Loomis.

"Is she going to be alright?" Brackett asked.

"It's too early to tell. She went into shock not long ago."

Brackett reached for the knife.

"Don't touch it!" Loomis screamed. "You may cause more harm than good."

At that moment, the paramedics took Shelly from him and placed her on the stretcher. Brackett looked at Loomis. "What the hell were you thinking? You coulda been killed!"

"Well thankfully I wasn't! Now, if you please, pull your thumbs out of your asses and get Myers outta there!"

Brackett's eyes widened as he drew his pistol. He lifted it to his eye level and walked inside the dark house.

"Stay close, Loomis," Brackett whispered. Loomis held the shotgun at the ready. Brackett came to a sudden stop and Loomis bumped him in the back. Loomis eyes went wide with horror as he saw what Brackett saw: nothing. Where Michael had lay, there was a pool of black blood and nothing more.

Brackett rushed upstairs and Loomis heard him retch. Brackett came back down, bile dripping off his lips. He turned to Loomis. "Go get some body bags."

In minutes, the bodies of Jerome, Mitchell, and Carson were wheeled out of the house. Brackett, now clean of the vomit, looked at Loomis and said, "That's three more to the body count, Loomis."

Loomis stared off into space as Brackett's words echoed in his ear. So did the ringtone of Loomis' cell phone.

"SAY YOUR PRAYERS, LITTLE ONE! DON'T FORGET-"

"Nelson, where the hell have you been?" Loomis bellowed.

"I've been digging, man," Nelson said. "And I think I've found it!"

"Slow down, Nelly." Loomis said. "Found what?" Brackett leaned in to listen.

"Myers! I found it! I found the key to all of this!"

"Nelson, slow down, and tell us what you found." There was a pause before the response.

"I can't, this isn't a secure line and I think I'm being followed. Bring your cop friend to the diner at the corner of Lampkin Lane and Wabash Avenue and I'll explain there."

CLICK!

8:34

Emily lay in Karl's hospital bed. She was covered in a hospital gown while Karl was sound asleep next to her, his glasses askew and shirt torn in three new places. She couldn't believe that they had done it three times already in twenty minutes. But she was feeling great now. She relaxed and curled up to Karl.

Karl awoke with Emily's head on his chest. He leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. She lifted her head up and looked at him sweetly. "Hey," she said in a soft voice. "Ready for 'Round 4,' Rocky?"

"No," Karl said. "I'm still a bit raw from last time. You rode me pretty hard."

"Well, there are other things you can do for me. Or to me..." She punctuated the sentence by giving him a playful bite on the ear. He smiled at her as she sat up over him and removed the hospital gown.

Danny and Travis walked down the hospital's hallway, each carrying two Big Gulp slushees in their hands. Danny had decided to run to the quick trip down the street to grab a drink, and Carrie, Travis, and Stephen all decided they wanted one. So Travis got volun-told to go with Danny to get them while Carrie stayed with Stephen.

Travis took a large sip from his slushee when he heard some soft moaning coming from one of the doors. He turned to Danny and gave him a quizzical look.

"Where the hell is that noise coming from?" Travis asked. Danny shrugged his shoulders and began looking around as well.

"What room is Karl's?" Danny asked.

"It's 204. Why?"

Danny pointed a thumb at the door next to him as he leaned his ear to the wooden barrier. Travis pressed his ear to the door and this is what he heard: "Oh, Karl! Oh, yeah! Go, baby, go! Go! GO!"

It sounded like Emily. Travis let out an evil grin.

"That lucky bastard," Travis exclaimed.

Danny could barely contain his laughter as he took another sip of his slushee.

"He's getting more than either of us are, so let's be happy for him," Danny said. Danny took his fist and pounded on the door as loud as he could, resulting in a small set of shocked screams from inside, before Danny added, "Get it!" at the top of his lungs. Danny and Travis then ran off down the hall before they got yelled at.

A split second after they were gone, Karl opened the door and looked around the hall.

"I think that was Danny," he said. Before he could leave the room to investigate, a hand grabbed him by his throat and pulled him back inside, the hand's owner laughing all the while.

8:39

Loomis stared at Nelson from across the table with a blank expression. Nelson had been in such a rush to get them here, but now he was taking his sweet time as he gulped down an entire pot of coffee to himself. His hair was a shaggy mess and he looked like he hadn't slept at all since last night. He had bags under his bloodshot eyes and in his hand was a large expanding file folder. When he had finished the coffee, he set the pot and the mug aside and looked at Loomis and Brackett, finally ready to give his report.

"Alright, Nelson, give it to us straight, and don't go skimpy-skimpy on the details. Lives are at stake here."

Nelson took a deep breath and pulled out the file.

"As you both know, Michael Audrey Myers, born October 19th, 1957, attacked and murdered his older sister, Judith Margaret Myers on October 31st, 1963. Incarcerated at Smith's Grove Sanitarium on November 1st, the following day, into the psychiatric care of Samuel James Loomis-"

"We know those details," Brackett shouted. "Just skip to the part we don't know."

"Well last night, Loomis found this article in the office of David Starks in Smith's Grove." Nelson pulled out the yellowed news article from the folder and handed it to Brackett.

"Michael Myers was reported dead to the public. Why? He's clearly alive." Brackett wondered aloud.

"That's what Loomis and I have been asking ourselves. So, I went into the Smith's Grove basement and dug through the archives, looking for the Myers file. I found the file on Michael, but I also discovered this…" Nelson pulled out an aged manila envelope and opened it, pulling out a document that looked like they should have crumbled to dust the moment they made contact with the air. He slid the decaying pages to Loomis, who gave them a cursory examination.

"And?" Loomis asked.

"What is it?" Brackett asked. Loomis read aloud.

"Godric Roman, aged eighteen, was lynched in a field just south of Chicago after being witnessed shooting and killing two friends with a Colt revolver on Halloween eve during a public dance event. Roman's wife was at home with her newborn child at the time the incident occurred.

"Well what's the connection?" Loomis asked Nelson.

"There was a detailed report about the Myers family lineage in his files. Godric Roman was the great-grandfather of Michael Myers"

"So this madness is a family trait?" Brackett asked in disbelief. "I don't buy that for a second!"

"Why hadn't this come out earlier, like at Myers' hearing after the murder?" Loomis asked.

Nelson continued. "I understand it was kept hidden at the trial because it was believed that it would hurt the kid's case. But the mother was freaking out about how the madness had returned and claimed her son.

"This is just the tip of the iceberg, too."

"What else did you find?" Loomis asked excitedly.

"A whole lot, Loomis. First, let's take a look at Myers' admission records." Nelson opened up a file folder containing numerous pages. "Myers was formally admitted as a patient at Smith's Grove on March 31st, 1964. The admission papers were signed by Dr. Wynn, who at the time was the sanitarium's chief administrator." Nelson handed him a file with a dozen pages of reports and a picture of Wynn, an older gentleman, paper-clipped to the pages.

"Terrance Wynn?" Loomis asked. "He was David's predecessor. He died back in 1995." Loomis added.

"And guess who killed him."

"I get three guesses, but only need one: Michael Myers."

"Bingo," Nelson said. "But during an investigation of his death, it was discovered that he had ties to a cult with Celtic origins, so I did some research on it."

"And you found?" Brackett asked.

"Well the cult is called the Cult of Thurisaz, a pagan God. It was based around one of two runes that survived the adoption of the Latin alphabet, the Thorn, the other being, and prepare to have your minds blown, the Wynn."

"The Wynn…" Brackett said in awe as he took the expanding folder and perused the files. "What, exactly, were they, the Thorn and the Wynn?"

"They were believed to possess special abilities, although they weren't exactly the most savory of powers. The Thorn, which takes its name from Thurisaz, was the third of what is believed to be a set of thirty-three runes. It means, 'Gateway, with Thorns of Resistance.' It can be looked at as a barrier, a separator from the, quote-unquote, other side of change."

"What kind of change?" Loomis asked, his curiosity growing intensely with each of Nelson's words.

"The worst kind," Nelson said, his voice suddenly dropping. "The Druids believed that the Thorn was a constellation of stars that appeared in his entire the night sky from time to time during the harvest season. When it appeared, the Druids prepared a ritual that, as most ancient rituals did, involved human sacrifice.

"The ritual required one child from the tribe, between the ages of six and eighteen, to be offered up to Thurisaz, who is commonly represented as a giant, and he would become inflicted with the Curse of Thorn. While under its influence, the child would then proceed to kill the enemies of the tribe."

Loomis suddenly remembered a poem that his grandfather had shared with him many years ago.

"If urgency tells me to tie the opponent with magic, then I dullen the steel of my foes so that their swords will not cut anymore."

"What does that mean?" Brackett asked.

"It's a poem my grandfather told me once. It means that the curse was used to keep the Druid's enemies away. But why was Michael afflicted? These cultists vanished over a thousand years ago."

"Obviously not," Nelson intoned. "Someone's keeping these rituals alive. And as far as why Michael is affected, I have an explanation. You see, Thorn falls here on the tonal axis: it spans from the fourteen, the Earthly Father; through the four, the place of Animals; the ten, the Mind; the three, the thirteen, and the One, the Place of Fire. Metaphorically, fire represents rage, which Michael clearly has. Negative side effects of this are demonic influence, damage, deception, and the perishing of enemies. Now, going back to the constellation bit, I did some homework and found these astrology charts spanning back to 1957, the year Michael was born. And I pulled out these."

Nelson pulled out a series of star maps, the stars and planets represented as white dots on the black pages with corresponding numbers chronicling the names and locations of the celestial bodies. A common constellation was traced with red ink on all of the maps. The constellation resembled a line with a triangle centered halfway down and pointing to the side.

"Look at the dates on the maps." Nelson said.

"October 19th, 1957, Michael's birthday." Loomis said to himself. "October 31st, 1963. October 31st, 1978. October 31st, 1988. October 31st, 1989. These are all the dates that Michael returned to Haddonfield." Loomis realized.

"Starting in '78, it always appeared first a week before hand. It's like Myers draws his energy from the rune whenever it appears, and it causes him to act. The next appearance is on October 30th and 31st, 1995." Nelson added.

"Again, Michael goes on the attack." Loomis noted.

"Also the day that Wynn died at Smith's Grove from unreleased causes. Myers disappeared for three years, resurfacing again in 1998, but the constellation didn't appear again until 2002, ten years ago tonight."

"That was the night I shot Myers in the hospital. You think he's still under the influence of this curse?"

"Yes, I do. There's something else about the curse."

Loomis and Brackett, who examined numerous reports at that point, looked up.

"The longer one is influenced by Thorn, the more powerful they become. That was why, after the child had performed his duties, he was killed before the magic had a chance to fully take hold and turn him into a physical manifestation of Thurisaz. That was the curse: eventually, you would become a god, and they realized that such a power could never be wielded by a man without consequence. That was why the child was killed, and the cycle started over in the next generation."

"Did blood factor in the selection process?" Brackett asked. "Like maybe a distant relative or something like that?"

"There are hardly any records of these rituals, but I would assume that it was common given the closeness of these tribes…" Nelson's voice trailed off as it suddenly came to him. "You think Michael and his great-grandfather inherited this curse?"

"You said that to prevent the afflicted from reaching full strength that they were killed when the sacrifice was done. Maybe that's why they killed Godric after he killed those two kids. It wasn't a dance party, it was a ritual!"

"My grandfather's notes said Michael was at a party the same evening he killed Judith. Maybe that's when he was influenced with the curse. And after he killed Judith, he was seen wondering out of the house. Maybe he was going to find his younger sister and kill her. Those were Michael's two sacrifices, and when he never got a hold of her, he took care of her daughter, his niece, Jamie Lloyd, instead! God, it's all coming together! And in 1995, when Michael killed Jamie-" Loomis cut himself off, as if he had yet another, even more startling revelation.

"Jamie Lloyd disappeared in 1989. She reappeared six years later, dead in a barn. Where was she for those six years?"

"I believe I know the answer to that, as well." Nelson said. "I dug up Wynn's personal files, not expecting to find anything because the sanitarium burned to the ground in '97. But there were copies on file, remaindered to the rebuilt Smith's Grove after your grandfather's death. In it, there is a document that states he signed a patient admittance form for one 'JLC'. No full name given, but it was dated November 2nd, 1989, two days after Jamie and Michael disappeared from the Haddonfield police station. One plus one is two, Bob's your uncle, JLC is Jamie Lloyd Caruthers. Then, when you look at Wynn's personal notes, he mentions that JLC had a baby boy on the night of October 30th, 1995, escaping with the infant shortly thereafter. The next morning, she turns up dead, baby missing, but Wynn never mentions the baby recovered."

"Jamie Lloyd, at fifteen, had a child? By who?" Loomis demanded.

"It never says, but whatever ritual Wynn and his cult had planned involved this baby and Myers." Nelson said.

"So we need to find this baby?" Loomis said in disbelief. "Why? The cult died with Wynn!"

"Are you forgetting that the Thorn appeared in the sky ten years ago, when Michael returned? Are you forgetting that someone wanted to keep Michael hidden from the public for a decade? Did you know that the constellation is visible tonight, along with a blood moon? The cultists are back, Jason! They have to be!"

"What?" Loomis asked. He stood from the booth and walked over to a window. Sure enough, in the skies above Haddonfield was the nearly full moon, swathed in a fiery crimson color. And near it was the Thorn constellation.

"Nelson, what would happen if the Cultists found that baby?"

"They'd finish what they started seventeen years ago, whatever it was."

"Oh my God," Brackett whispered.

"What, Lee?" Loomis asked as his friend was suddenly overcome with revelation.

"Nelson, you said this baby was born seventeen years ago. Obviously, he's not a baby anymore, and he would have just turned seventeen, right?"

"Correct," Nelson said.

"And the baby was never recovered by the cultists, as far as we know, right? So someone had to have found it, and maybe they did or didn't know the child's significance and raised it by themselves, right?"

"Where are you going with this, Lee?" Jason intoned.

"Stephen Strode was adopted by Tommy Doyle and Karen Strode in 1995, and he just turned seventeen yesterday."

"My God," Loomis breathed. "Whoever is pulling the strings… If they find out where Stephen is…" He paused, as a horrible thought crossed his mind.

"Are you a hundred percent sure there is no way to stop this?" Brackett asked.

"There is, actually," Nelson said. "The Wynn is the mark of the Protector, and when used against Thorn, they cancel each other out. But it's an even more dangerous force than Thorn, and-"

Nelson was about to add something else, but at that moment, the radio on Brackett's shoulder squawked.

"Sheriff Brackett, it's Murdoch! We got a fire out here near the electric plant, may need your help with it!"

"10-4 on that, Lt Dan. En route, ETA 10 minutes.

"Loomis, we got to go! Nelson, get to the hospital and keep an eye on Stephen Strode. Make sure nothing happens to him." With that, Brackett led Loomis out of the diner. When they were gone, Nelson pulled out a .44 and checked that it was fully loaded.


	24. Chapter 23: Breaking In

Chapter 23

Breaking In

Haddonfield Memorial Hospital

9:18

Anna rested her eyes for only a few seconds. She glanced out the large window of the nurse's check-in desk and saw an empty waiting room looking back at her. The most interesting that had happened since the last patient had been admitted was a smooth-looking teenage boy walking in with about three Big Gulps from 7-Eleven. The last patient had been admitted with their sliced tongue and worried mother. This was why she hated Halloween. There was always some ignorant parent or careless child who would munch on their Tootsie Roll and find a small razor blade or needle and they would never realize it until it was far past too late. But it saddened her as well since these kids were usually less than seven years old. The ironic thing was that all, not most but all, of these incidents happened in other towns and the parent usually drove the hour and a half from Big City Russellville for a two and a half hour wait in Haddonfield Memorial Hospital, located in Small Town Haddonfield, USA. With her energy for the day burnt up, she rested her head on her hand and shut her eyes for a brief ten seconds. It was ten seconds that would set into motion the events that shaped the rest of the night.

The Man in Black was less than a block away from the hospital. He was focused on the mission at hand, but decided not to dwell on it too much. Everything had gone exactly according to plan so far tonight and thinking about it too much might cause him to get distracted and screw up somewhere.

The Man in Black had now reached the front door of the Emergency Entrance. The automatic doors slid open for him. He noticed the desk nurse was putting her head on her hand and shutting her eyes. The Man in Black walked towards the nurse. The Man in Black saw a set of double doors next to the door leading into the nurse's station open. The Man in Black slinked towards them.

Anna's head slipped off her hand. She caught herself and opened her eyes again. The front doors were closing themselves, but she hadn't seen anybody come in or go out. She also never saw the tall Man in Black come up behind her. She never heard him sneak as quietly as a feather floating to the ground through the door that led into her little slice of heaven.

She looked down at her papers and remembered where she was. She picked up her pen and wrote something down.

She heard something rustle. She looked up into the glass window in front of her and saw something behind her. He was wearing all black and his trillby was angled down over his face, obscuring it completely.

She widened her eyes as he raised his hand. He grabbed her long, curly hair and yanked back. She instinctively struggled against him. She fell out of the chair backwards and landed on the floor. The man still had a hold on her. He picked her up and held her face at eye level. She saw in his eyes his intentions. She whimpered as he tossed her backwards. She hit her back against the table. Before she could react, he was upon her again. He shoved her backwards through the window. Glass shattered in a rain of shards as Anna landed on her back. She was cut up badly by the glass. She opened her eyes and searched frantically, but couldn't find the man. He had disappeared. She turned her gaze to the exit and began crawling for it, inch by agonizing inch.

The Man in Black's shadow suddenly fell over her. She turned around and looked up. The Man in Black stood with a large shard in his hands. He raised it above his head and brought it down hard and fast. The last thing Anna saw on God's Green Earth was the crystal clear shard slice the air on its way towards her face. Roll on snare drum. Curtains.

The Man in Black tilted his head and stared at his handy work. Blood flowed from the deep gash in Anna's face, welling into a pool on the floor. The Man in Black looked around. No witnesses.

The Man in Black looked up at the automatic doors he had come in through and saw another man in black approaching. This one, however, wore a white Halloween Mask and walked at a slower pace than the Man in Black. He watched as Michael Myers approached the doors and smiled, for the fun part was about to begin.

"Oh, Goddamn!" Emily lay sprawled across Karl, bare-ass naked. "I think I'm done for the night, Karl. What about you?"

"Kind of raw," Karl replied. Emily let out a satisfied chuckle. She buried her face in Karl's chest and wiggled herself closer to him.

"Did you think it would happen like this?" Emily asked. "With me, I mean."

"Honestly," Karl said. "I didn't think it would happen in a hospital bed." The two laughed. "But I was kind of hoping that you'd come around eventually. I mean, how in the hell could you keep passing up on this?" He flexed his muscles for good measure.

"Well I'm glad I did," she said. "Especially since there's the possibility that we could both die tonight."

"Yeah, there's that," Karl said. "But I'm not going to let that happen. Not to you, anyway.

"Besides," Karl added. "The police have this place locked down tight. Nothing is getting in this hospital."

At that moment, the lights in the room surged. The lights became bright, then dimmed several times before going out for good. The emergency lights came on, casting an eerie atmosphere in the room. Emily grabbed Karl and pulled him close.

"I think you spoke too soon." Emily said.

At that moment, the door opened. Carrie and Travis stood in the doorway and stared at the two lovers.

"Well, don't take a genius to figure out what you two were doing." Carrie said.

There was a sudden, loud banging echoing from elsewhere in the hospital. There was a succession of loud crashes, like someone knocking over the contents of a janitor's closet.

"What the hell was that?" Emily asked.

"It sounded like it came from the floor below us. I'll go check it out," Karl said. He hopped off the bed he lay on and landed on his bad leg. Bad move. He buckled under a combination of weight and pain and Emily caught him before he hit the floor.

"Maybe I should go check it out." Travis suggested. Before anyone could protest, he had already left the room. As he walked down the corridor, he noticed a man in a black trench coat and a large black hat covering his face walk down across an intersecting hallway, but as Travis approached the intersection, looked around and saw no sign of the man. The Man, however, was standing behind a cracked door, watching him, holding his knife so tightly that his hand was going numb-

Stephen's eyes snapped open, and he was still in darkness. He glanced around the room for a few seconds before his eyes finally allowed him to realize the emergency lights were on. He sat up a bit too fast and his head instantly began hurting. He gripped his head as the pain slowly subsided. When it was gone, he pulled himself out of the bed and gingerly stood on his own. He gripped the bed railing as he felt the blood return to his legs. Something was telling him… No, screaming at him that it was soon about to become very dangerous here. He made his way to the door, and opened it.

Travis exited the elevator to the first floor and stepped out. He was back in the receptionist lobby, but there was no one behind the counter. He also noticed the window was broken.

"Hello?" Travis yelled. "Is anyone down here?"

There was no answer. Travis examined the window and saw something welling up on the jagged edges. He reached out with his index finger and touched it, pulling it back with a few drops on his finger. He examined the liquid and smeared it between his index finger and his thumb, turning them both a dark crimson color.

It was blood.

Travis looked around alarmed before turning tail and running all the way down the hall towards the elevators, not noticing that Michael Myers now stood inside the receptionist's room, glaring at him...


	25. Chapter 24: The Eye of Evil

Chapter 24

The Eye of Evil

9:23 P.M.

Stephen crept into Amber's room and closed the door behind him. He hadn't seen Carrie yet, but he knew where Amber was, and he needed to make sure she was safe. Stephen made sure the door latched with a muted click and made his way to Amber's bedside. He leaned over and whispered into Amber's ear.

"Amber, baby, we got to go."

Amber stirred and rolled over, sleepily mumbling, "Daddy? Is that you?"

"No, it's Stephen," Stephen whispered.

"Stephen," Amber said as she became more awake. "You're alive!" She threw her arms around Stephen and held him tightly.

"No time for that," Stephen said. "We have to get out of here, right now. I got a bad feeling that something's up, so we need to find Carrie and get the hell out of here."

"Stephen, what are you talking about?" Amber demanded.

"I can't explain it. It's just… We have to go now. If you trust me, then come with me."

Amber simply stared at Stephen.

"Amber, please," Stephen pleaded. "If you don't come with me, something bad is going to happen to you. If you've never trusted me before, trust me now." Stephen extended his hand to Amber, who paused for a moment before accepting it. Stephen helped Amber out of the bed and started for the door when they heard a sound.

"Shh," Stephen said. Amber stopped and listened for the sound again. It sounded like fighting, and it was close.

Nurse Samantha David pushed the medical cart down the hallway. The wheels made an annoying squeak as they rolled on the linoleum flooring. She pushed the cart up to a door and stopped long enough to open the door so she could drag the cart through.

"Come on, Stephen," she said. "It's time to change your I.V." Nurse David turned and saw that the bed was empty, except for the tube for the previous I.V., which was leaking its contents on the bed.

"Oh, shit," Nurse David said as she pressed the nurse call button. Above the red button, a red light came on. Nurse David turned to wait for the head nurse to answer the call, but was met by a large Man in Black.

Nurse David let out a scream as the Man in Black grabbed her by her throat and lifted her up high over his head. She tried to gasp for air, but the Man in Black had an extremely tight hold on her throat; all that escaped was barely audible squeak. The Man then tossed her back onto the hospital bed and grabbed the I.V. needle just as she began to crawl off the other side of the bed. The man grabbed her leg and dragged her back to him.

Nurse David ripped at the covers trying to escape, but the Man in Black was slightly stronger. He then flipped her over on her back and raised the needle above her face, reflecting in Nurse David's eye moments before the Man in Black plunged the needle into it.

Nurse David struggled as the Man in Black refused to relinquish his grip on her throat. She could feel the cold I.V. fluid drip into her eye and then flow into her head. She screamed louder as the Man in Black then squeezed her neck, but soon stopped after a loud and satisfying crunch.

The Man in Black then released his grip on the poor woman, who then lay still on the bed. He stepped outside the room and dropped his hand to one side; it was covered in an intricate spider-web of scars that snaked up into the long arm sleeve of the trench-coat he wore. He could sense Michael's presence without turning. The Man smiled as Michael Myers approached him, stopping a few feet away, his gleaming silver knife drenched with dripping blood.

"Michael," the Man said in an unnaturally deep voice. "Your time is at an end. It is almost over."

Michael slowly turned and walked away down the hall as the Man in Black followed from a distance…

Stephen and Amber waited as the sounds ceased and melded into talking. Neither of them could make out the voice, or what they were saying, but it quickly ended and was followed by the sounds of receding footsteps. Stephen cracked open the door and glanced in both directions, looking for the source of the steps. Not seeing them, he signaled for Amber to follow him out the door. When they were both out of the hallway, they rushed quickly down the corridor, not seeing the dead body of Nurse David lying with a needle in her eye on the bed Stephen had occupied minutes before. Another pair of footsteps echoed in the corridor. The pair froze in their tracks.

"Is it him?" Amber asked.

Stephen didn't answer; instead, he grabbed Amber's arm and dragged her into a nearby room as the footsteps grew louder and louder. Amber backed away from the door and let out a frightened squeak. Stephen quickly put his hand over her mouth and pulled her close to him.

"Shhh," Stephen whispered into Amber's ear. Amber slowly nodded her head, but Stephen didn't remove his hand. The footsteps receded into the distance, and soon it was quiet again.


	26. Chapter 25: Code BlackLockdown

Chapter 25

Code Black/Lockdown

9:26 P.M.

The footsteps belonged to Dr. Patel, who was the only doctor on staff tonight. The rest were orderlies and nurses. A short while ago he had noticed that the call button in Stephen's room had lit up, but nobody had checked it out, so it fell to him to do so. As he turned the corner, he heard the clicking of a shutting door, but dismissed it as an echo from another floor; these halls carried some sounds, but muffled others. It was only one of the strange things that had happened since they rebuilt the hospital after the fire in '78, when it had originally been nothing more than a clinic.

Dr. Patel's father had been working at the hospital hours before the blaze. It was amazing how something as simple as avoiding a double shift had saved his father's life that night, either from the blade of Michael Myers or the inferno that burned the clinic to the ground. Otherwise, Martin wouldn't exist right now. Life was funny like that.

The clinic had been rebuilt as a full-fledged hospital in 1981, and was fully operational in October that year, which was a good thing, too, because that year, a Michael Myers copycat stalked Haddonfield and sent sixteen people to the hospital, though nobody died, fortunately.

Patel approached the door to Stephen's room and, curiously, found it open. The curtain had been drawn around the bed, and the visitor chairs were empty. Patel reached over near the machines and switched off the call button.

"How are we doing, Stephen?" Patel asked as he grabbed the curtains and pulled back. His face went from a smile to terror when his eyes beheld Nurse David lying dead on the mattress. Patel stumbled backwards, tripping and falling on his back, trying to yell and scream, but only managing to hyperventilate in panic. With the help of the walls, he managed to stand. Before running out the door, Patel grabbed an alarm switch near the bed and flipped it. An alarm resounded throughout the building and an electronic female voice spoke:

"This is a Code Black. This building is in immediate lockdown. Please find the nearest doctor or nurse for further assistance."

Nelson was already inside the building when the Code Black took effect. When the alarms sounded, he pulled out his gun and examined the Emergency Room waiting area. He had just noticed the shattered, bloody glass around the floor when the voice came on.

"This is a Code Black. This building is in immediate lockdown. Please find the nearest doctor or nurse for further assistance."

Nelson pulled out his gun and hustled to the check-in desk window, or what was left of it. He reached in and hit the electronic door switch that unlocked the doors to the patient rooms.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. He put the phone to his ear just as Loomis answered.

"Nelson, what the hell is going on?"

"The hospital is in Code Black!"

"WHAT!?" came the shocked response

"Myers is here at the hospital!" Nelson shouted over the noise of the sirens. "He's already killed at least one person, maybe more! I can't do this alone, Loomis!"

"Alright, just sit tight and don't do anything stupid!" Loomis said. "Brackett!"

Loomis hung up the phone and Nelson aimed his gun forward into the near dark hallway. He didn't know which room Stephen was in, but he didn't have time to look it up. Time was a luxury nobody had, not tonight.

"Brackett!" Loomis called from the darkness, the only light coming from the dwindling fire that was consuming the power station. Off to the side however was a smaller building untouched by the blaze. It was a backup station to be utilized in emergencies to restore power for a couple days.

Brackett was directing several electric workers to the secondary building while firefighters from neighboring cities fought to control the blaze.

"Alright, just get the power back as soon as you can." Brackett said at the power worker who was standing close to him as he and other officers stood around the power plant.

"Brackett, where the hell are you?"

"Loomis!" Lee called. The skies over Haddonfield had gotten darker. Lightning clapped and thunder rolled almost constantly above the plant. It wasn't raining yet, but this was much worse.

Instantly, Loomis was at Brackett's side. "Looks like this storm ain't through with us yet."

KA-BOOM!

Another lightning bolt cracked the ground behind Brackett, causing him to instinctively dive for the ground.

"Fuck!" Loomis shouted. When everybody had recovered from the lightning strike, Loomis turned to Brackett.

"Lee, Myers is at the hospital!" Loomis shouted. "Code Black is in effect, and Nelson is there by himself!"

"Goddamnit!" Brackett shouted as he threw his jacket to the ground.

"Lee, let me take a car to the hospital. I'm not doing any good here, and Nelson may not be able to face Myers alone!"

"And you think that you can stop him?" Brackett shouted over the high winds.

"Maybe nobody can stop him, but I've got to try!"

Brackett stood for a moment before turning to Murdoch.

"Murdoch, how far out is that back up!" Brackett yelled. Murdoch reached for his personal radio unit.

"TF-149, what is your E.T.A.?"

"We just passed the two-twenty mile marker on Highway 31. E.T.A. twenty minutes."

"Brackett, they're less than half an hour out!" Another crack of thunder broke the air.

Brackett cursed. There was no way they could get wait twenty minutes if Myers

Brackett turned back to Loomis, digging into his pocket and tossing Loomis the keys to the cruiser.

"Go," Brackett said. "Don't do anything crazy!"

"Someone should have told my grandpa the same thing." Loomis took the keys and hopped into the police car, burning rubber as he peeled out of the parking lot and fishtailing onto the highway, lights and sirens going bright and loud until they disappeared into the darkness.

"Repeat, Code Black is now in effect."

The nurses in the break area were startled by the alarms going off. Terry jumped out of her seat and whirled around to face Betty, who had been getting herself a cup of coffee before she had spilled it after being startled by the alarms. Cleaning it, however, did not seem to be among her top priorities.

"Betty, what's going on?" Terry asked the middle-aged nurse.

"It's Code Black. It means there's been a murder in the building," Betty said.

"Do you want to take the fifth floor?" A handsome-looking young ambulance driver by the name of Court asked.

"Yeah, take Terry and have her get the critical patients down to the ambulances. Call the other drivers, Court, and have them meet us here in ten minutes for the evacuation." Court and Terry left the room and headed down the hallway, the "whoop whoop" of the alarms still screaming away.

"Do you know what Code Black is?" Court asked. Terry shook her head. "In the event of a murder inside this hospital, Code Black will take effect and all of entrance and emergency exit doors will lock, as well as the windows on the third floor and below, the only ones you have any chance of surviving a fall from. The only way in or out is through the ambulance garage, which is to be used for evacuating critical patients. All others will be evacuated by a bus parked in said garage."

"Why is that the only way out?" Terry asked.

"So the killer doesn't get out. He's trapped unless he's brave or dumb enough to go through the ambulance garage, where two dozen armed cops will be waiting. What we're doing now is rounding up all the critical condition patients and taking them to the garage. You take first and second floor, and burn ward. I'll take third and fourth, as well as maternity." With that, Court and Terry reached the elevators. Court pressed the button, and waited. The doors opened, but somebody was already inside.

The two figures that were inside the elevator car stepped forward. One was dressed in all black, the dark hat he wore down over his face obscured his features. The other was dressed in dark colored coveralls and wore a white, featureless Halloween mask, and held a shiny metal object in his hand.

The Man in Black grabbed Court by the throat and shoved him backwards out into the hallway. Court, who was a strong man, fought back with all of his strength, managing to keep the Man in Black off of him for a bit. He punched at where the Man's face was, and felt his fist make contact with soft flesh. He spun out of the Man's grasp and glanced over at Terry.

The Shape grabbed Terry by her curly blond hair and pulled her into the elevator, twirling her around and pulling her so close to him that it hurt. The Shape reached forward and pressed the "close doors" button on the control panel. Before Court could reach her, the doors had closed in front of Terry and the Shape. Terry screamed as the doors closed, and still screamed as the elevator moved away from the floor they were on. Court would never know what happened to her.

"Terry!" he yelled.

The Man in Black regained his composure and charged Court again. He pinned Court to the elevator doors and drove something sharp into his backside. Court let out a groan and spat blood onto the elevator doors as the Man pulled the sharp object down Court's backside. Pain rushed through every nerve in Court's body as he began to feel things falling out of him. Then, he felt nothing.

The Man in Black let Court's gutted body fall to the floor, leaving a red smear on the doors from where he had spat out the blood and streaked it when he fell. The Man took the bloody knife to his robes and wiped it so that it was shiny clean once more before walking away, taking great care to avoid the offal that was piled on the floor. He didn't want to get his boots dirty, after all.

Stephen peeked out the door and looked up and down the hallway. He turned back to Amber and made an "all clear" motion with his hands. She grabbed his hand and allowed him to lead her out the door and down the hall in a hustle, their footsteps nearly drowned out by the siren noises.

Back in Karl's room, Carrie paced back and forth across the floor, her shoes making clacking sounds on the linoleum floor.

"Where the hell is Travis?" she asked to nobody in particular.

"He's fine, he'll be alright," Karl reassured her.

"He's been gone for nearly ten minutes!" she shouted. "And this goddamn alarm isn't helping matters! AND WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT CLICKING NOISE?!"

"That would be your shoes, honey," Emily said. Carrie looked down and took off her shoes as Karl spoke.

"Does Travis have a cell phone?" Karl asked.

"Yeah, but he gave it to me when mine died."

"Okay, well then calling him is out. Call the cops, then," Karl said. "They've got to know what's going on if they're gonna stop it."

Carrie nodded and dialed the number. Her face soon dropped into one of concern and worry.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked.

"It's just ringing," Carrie said.

"That's odd," said Emily. "The phone doesn't just ring at a police station."

"It is. Here," Carrie put her phone on speaker. Sure enough, the phone just rang and rang.

Carrie hung up the phone and turned to Karl.

"So now wha-"

The door suddenly flung open, causing Carrie and Emily to scream at the figure standing in the doorframe.

"Calm down," Danny said. "It's just me!" Danny looked concerned.

"What's up?" Carrie asked.

"Stephen's missing! There's a dead nurse in his room, and I can't find him or Amber anywhere!"

"What?" Emily shouted.

"That's why the Code Black is in effect!"

"And Code Black is what?" Danny questioned.

"Code Black is when someone in the hospital is assaulted or killed. Someone musty have seen the body, and triggered the alarm."

"So now what?" Carrie asked. "Myers is somewhere in the building and Travis is still missing!"

"God, every ounce of my common sense is telling me to stick together," Karl said. "We'll split up, but into groups of two. We'll look for Stephen, Amber, and Travis, but if we don't find them, we get the hell out of here!"

"Sounds like a plan," Danny said. "They've got to still be in the building."

Danny turned around, and ran headlong into a large man. The man stared at Danny from behind the shadow cast by his long hat.

"Danny," the Man in Black said. "Remember me…?"

"What the fuck?" Danny shouted as he backed away startled. The Man pulled a long, gleaming knife from within his coat, and pointed it at Danny.

"Kill for him, Danny."

"It's you!" Danny shouted. He bumped into Karl as the Man advanced into the room. "After all these years, now you come back for me? Why now?"

"You know this motherfucker?" Karl shouted.

"We have a history," Danny said as he stood his ground. He groped behind him and felt his fingers touch the cold steel of a surgical tray. He carefully traced the form of a scalpel, and gripped it behind his back.

"I've known Danny for seventeen years," the Man said. "He's like family to me…"

"You're not family," Danny said. "You're fucking Satan! What you tried to make me! What you tried to make Stephen!"

"Danny, what the hell are you talking about?" Carrie shouted.

"He can tell you later, when you're all dead and in Hell," the Man said as he lunged forward with the knife. Danny ducked and pulled the scalpel from behind him, aiming for the gut of the Man in Black. He didn't know if he got him, but the Man tripped backwards onto the floor. Carrie and Emily were out the door before the Man recovered, standing fast and staring down Karl and Danny.

Danny clutched the scalpel in his hands and began swiping it at the Man. Karl grabbed a nearby chair and swung it up into where the Man's face was. The Man was knocked cold by the blow, falling backwards and hitting his head on the wall. His hat flew off, revealing an old man with short, gray hair and a series of intricate scars on his face and neck.

"Come on, let's go," Danny shouted as he and Karl fled the room. They caught up with Carrie and Emily down the hall.

"Who the hell was that?" Emily asked as they all ran down the hallway. "How did he know you?"

"Because he's tried to kill me before," Danny said.


	27. Chapter 26: Halloween Hospital Massacre

Chapter 26

The Halloween Hospital Massacre

9:36 P.M.

Loomis hit the brakes of the cruiser, causing it to squeal to a stop in a parking space in the lot of the hospital. He got out of the car and checked that his gun was loaded before running to the nearby wooden door and juggled the handle; locked. He ran back a ways and made a running start for the door, body-checking it with his shoulder. It didn't budge. He leveled his pistol and fired at the glass window, recoiling from the loud echo the empty garage made of the gunshot as the glass shattered and fell to the ground. Loomis reached inside and felt for the handle on the other side; it was locked too.

"Fuck!" he shouted. He ran back towards the car and grabbed the shotgun from the rack. He pumped it to make sure there were shells in it before running back to the door and blowing the handle away in a shower of splinters, leaving a decent-sized hole in the door where the handle had been. Loomis kicked the door off its hinges and made his way inside.

"Nelson!" Loomis called. There was no answer. He aimed his gun down the narrow hallway and stepped forward. He peered into the windows on the doors that lined the halls, not seeing anything in any of them.

There was a loud bang somewhere above him. He twirled around and aimed his gun upwards at the ceiling just as one of the tiles shattered and fell to the ground. There was a sick, wet crack as something else fell with the tile. Loomis stared at the pile and realized it was the body of a pretty blond woman. Her face was maimed beyond recognition, but a bloodied nameplate among the shredded mess identified her as Terry.

Loomis backed away from the body and turned to run down the hall, his footsteps echoing behind him.

Travis burst through the door into the emergency stairwell, tripping over the threshold and nearly tumbling down the stairs, catching himself on the rail before he began his fall. He used the rail to help himself to his feet and wiped the blood away from his face. He had been on his way back to Stephen's room when he rounded a corner and slipped on a puddle of blood and guts in front of the elevators, falling face first into it and breaking his nose when he smashed it into the floor and what had possibly been, at one point, someone's kidney.

The smell of the organ still offended his nostrils as he ran up the flights of stairs. He left bloody footprints in his wake as he hustled upwards, careful not to slip again on his wet shoes.

He looked backwards to see if that guy was still following him. He wasn't. When he had left the elevators, he noticed a guy in a black suit standing nearby. Travis had thought he was following him, but he hadn't dared to look back until just now to check and see.

Travis took the steps two at a time until he reached the eighth floor. He opened the emergency door and charged through it. He looked down the hall and saw a middle-aged woman running down the hall towards him.

"Hey, kid, are you alright?" she asked.

"You got to help me! There's a killer loose in here!"

The woman did not seem surprised at all. In fact, Travis was the one who was surprised by her response: "I know."

"You know? So what do we do?" Travis asked as he approached her.

"We head back downstairs to the ambulance garage. The police will be waiting there," she said as she led him back to the stairs.

"No," Travis said. "We can't go that way. He was following me."

"Then head to the stairwell on the south end of this floor," the woman said. "Go down to the fifth floor, that's the intensive care unit, and head east. Follow the sings to the emergency elevator and it'll take you straight to the garage."

She lightly shoved Travis out of the way, who simply stood where he was and asked, "Are you not coming?"

"There are patients on this floor who need help getting out. I can't just leave them," she said.

"Then let me help you," Travis offered.

"Fine," the nurse said. "You can check all the rooms on your way to the south exit. Help anybody you find own the stairwell and follow my instructions, understand?" Travis nodded. "Now go-"

The nurse turned away from Travis, and got a face full of steel. A black shape came swinging out of a shadow, heading straight for the nurse's head. The nurse suddenly stopped mid-sentence as the long, steel blade pierced her face, slicing deep into her skull near the temple. The force of the swing drove the blade straight into her brain, making a sick wet slicing noise as it did so.

The nurse never uttered another sound, save for an echo in the hallway caused by her collapse when the Shape removed the knife from her head. There was a loud crack as her cranium made contact with the linoleum.

The Shape stepped out from the shadow and looked directly at Travis.

Time seemed to slow. Travis' jaw hung open in disbelief as the Shape stood unmoving less than three feet away from him. His heart was pounding at a million miles an hour inside his chest; it felt like it would explode any second. He was also slightly aware of a warming sensation trickling down his legs.

Travis turned and, before he could even tell his feet to run, felt a hand grab his neck and pull him backwards. The strong arm of the Shape pulled him tight, while the Shape's free arm raised the knife high into the air, poised to kill…

"Drop the kid!" Nelson shouted as he rounded the corner. At the opposite end of the hallway, Nelson came around the corner with his gun held high. He had the red-dot scope trained on the white mask, directly between the black eyes.

"I said drop him, Mikey!" Myers failed to respond; he instead plunged the knife downwards-

BAM!

Nelson fired off the shot, hitting Myers in the forearm and making him drop the knife. Travis, who had been on the verge of passing out, fully realized what was happening and, before he could stop himself, leaned his head forward and quickly snapped it backwards into Myers' face, causing Myers to stumbled backwards into the wall, collapsing in a heap on the floor.

Travis rolled away, kicking the knife out of Myers' reach before standing near Nelson, who rapidly approached Myers and prepared to fire off another shot.

"Don't; let's just get out of here!" Travis shouted as he placed a hand on Nelson's arm, attempting to force him to lower the gun. Nelson turned to Travis, but kept his gun trained on where Myers was.

"Not until I'm sure he's dead!" Nelson then turned back to where Myers was and prepared to fire off another round before realizing that Myers, in the split second Nelson and Travis had taken their eyes off him, had vanished.

"What the fuck?" Nelson shouted. "Impossible, he fell right there! Where the fuck did he go?"

"I don't know!" Travis shouted. "Can we just get out of here now?"

"Yeah," Nelson said as he backed away slowly, never lowering his weapon. "Where are we going?"

"That nurse said there was a set of stairs at the south end of the floor."

"Then we'd better hurry." Nelson said. "If Loomis was right, Myers will be back for seconds before too long."

"Wait a goddamned minute," Emily shouted. "None of this is making any sense!"

Emily was leaning against a wall, catching her breath.

"Who exactly was that guy, and why was he trying to kill you?"

"Well, Emily," Danny began. "He wasn't trying to kill me, per se."

"Really, because I'd say that attack just now qualifies as trying to kill you!"

"No, he wasn't- God, I can't believe he's back!"

"Who the hell is it?" Karl asked.

"His name is Wynn," Danny said. "When I was six years old, he tried to kidnap me and use me in some sort of Celtic ritual involving Michael Myers!"

"Celtic ritual? Are you sure?" Karl asked, befuddled.

"You act like you know what he's talking about," Carrie said.

"He said it was a Celtic ritual. The Celtic religion has all sorts of rituals and traditions associated with Samhain, Halloween."

"Why?"

"Halloween is was believed among pagan religious groups to be the night when the veil between the two worlds, the living world and the dead world, was thinnest, or non-existent. They would perform rituals or other acts to keep spirits at bay. One such trick was the wearing of costumes to disguise themselves from malevolent spirits."

"And the rituals?" Emily asked.

"They often involved sacrifice. One such ritual was the sacrificing of an entire family one by its members in order to spare the entire tribe from the wrath of the gods for another generation."

"That's exactly what Wynn was going to do to me," Danny confirmed. "He was trying to curse me."

"Danny, your last name is Strode, right? Did you know Laurie Strode?"

Danny shook his head. "Not personally. She died in a car wreck before I was born, but pictures of her should still be in our old house on Lampkin Lane."

Karl pulled a crumpled up picture out of his pocket and handed it to Danny: it was the picture of Laurie Strode with the two babies.

"Then you knew about Jamie Lloyd?"

"I do," Danny said as he took the picture. "My mom knew this guy who found her child, Tommy Doyle. Wynn was going to use the child as Michael's final sacrifice, and make me kill my mom as my first!"

"So what happened?"

"We escaped, that's what happened! We thought Michael was gone for good, but obviously not!"

"We?" Carrie asked.

"Me and my mom, Tommy, and Stephen."

"Wait, WHAT?" Karl, Emily, and Carrie shouted simultaneously.

"Stephen is the son of Jamie Lloyd, and the last surviving member of the Myers bloodline," Danny said. "And if Stephen is killed, then Myers becomes human again, I become like Myers, and the cycle begins again!"

"Does Stephen know any of this?" Emily asked.

"No," Danny said. "He was barely two days old when all of this happened, so he doesn't remember a dime of it."

"Are you going to tell him?" Carrie asked. "He needs to know this, and he needs to hear it from you!"

"We've got to find him, first," Danny said. "You and Emily will search fourth floor and up. Karl and I'll take the third floor and down. We'll meet up in the lobby. And watch the shadows!"

Loomis peered around the corner, aiming his gun down the empty hall, checking every single shadow for signs of movement. On the ground halfway up the hall was another body. Loomis moved towards it saw that it was another nurse, this one had her head spun around in a complete one-eighty, her neck flesh nearly to the ripping point.

There was a clicking noise behind him. Loomis whirled around and lifted his gun high into the air.

"Freeze!" he shouted at the top of his lungs as two figures hobbled out from a nearby room. Loomis lowered the gun slightly, and spoke to them.

"Stephen Strode?" The male of the pair looked up; it was definitely Stephen.

"Help… me," Stephen said. He took a step towards Loomis and collapsed, the woman falling out of his grip and onto the ground.

"Is she alright?" Loomis asked. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Stephen said. "She fainted… All the blood…"

"Blood?" Loomis asked. "What- Whose blood?"

"Everyone's," Stephen said. "Everyone's dead. And I can't find Karl or anybody!"

"Karl? Your friend, Karl? He's alive?"

Stephen managed a weak nod.

"Who else is missing?" Loomis asked.

"I'm sorry," Stephen said. "But do I know you?"

"Of course you don't know me. I'm Jason Loomis. I was there when they pulled you out of the sewer earlier tonight."

"Loomis?" Stephen asked. "Why do I know your name from somewhere?"

"Doesn't matter," Loomis said. "The cavalry is on the way, and we have to get you out of here."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Stephen said. "Help me with her."

Stephen helped Amber to her feet, and he and Loomis carried her between them.

"So," Stephen said. "Aside from chasing down a homicidal maniac who's hell-bent on killing everyone, how's your night been?"

Travis and Nelson hustled down the stairwell like the Devil was on their tails. Nelson had his gun drawn and was constantly aiming it behind him in case Myers decided to show back up again.

"Dude, don't worry about it, and let's just get the fuck out of here!" Travis yelled at Nelson.

Nelson didn't respond; he just continued taking the steps two at a time.

"Here, this is the fifth floor," Travis said. They had reached the landing where a door with the number five on it was. Travis opened the door and peered into the hallway. There were a small number of people heading in the same direction; east, Travis assumed.

"There are people out here," Travis told Nelson.

"Good," Nelson said. "If we stay in large groups, there's no way Myers can-"

Nelson was cut off by the "rata-tat" noise of automatic gunfire. Travis ducked away from the door as a hail of bullets hit the metal door, causing the entire stairwell to echo.

"What the-" Travis started to exclaim, only to have Nelson place his hand over his mouth.

"Keep quiet, or they'll find us."

Travis slowly nodded his head. Outside, the barrage of gunfire continued, mixed with the screams of the scared and/or dying.

"Check all the rooms," Travis heard someone say in a low, frail voice. "I want no survivors!"

"Yes sir!"

The door to the stairwell creaked open as a man in a black jumpsuit pushed it with a modified AK-47. He poked the weapon around the room before walking over to the stairwell and peering over the railing. He fired off a few rounds down at the floor below for good measure and, when he was positive the stairwell was empty, turned back to the door, only to come face-to-face with Nelson.

Nelson elbowed the mercenary in the face, causing him to stumble back to the railing. Nelson let loose with a flurry of rabbit punches, knocking the AK out of the man's hands before kneeing him in the gut. Nelson then took both hands and placed them on the merc's head, quickly twisting it around with a satisfying crack of the man's neck. The merc's body fell limp in Nelson's hands; Nelson gently laid the man down on the ground, careful not to make a sound as he did so.

Nelson then gave a sharp whistle and Travis came up the stairs from the landing one floor below. He stared at the body on the ground, then at Nelson.

"You did that?" Travis asked in disbelief.

"I was with the Army Rangers before becoming a detective," Nelson said. "The 501st legion. Rangers lead the way, son."

"Oh," was Travis' stunned reply.

"Do you know how to shoot a gun?"

"What?" Travis asked. "Yeah, but shotguns and rifles-"

"I'm gonna teach you to use an AK," Nelson said as he picked up the automatic weapon. "Could come in handy."

"Listen, I don't think I can-" Travis began to protest.

"Why do you think guerilla terrorists give these guns to the children in their armies? They're that easy to operate. Here, let me show you…"

A few moments later, Nelson peered out from the door to the stairwell and into the hallway full of dead, bleeding bodies. Nelson gave Travis a quick motion with his hands for him to step forward. The other men with guns had vanished, not bothering to check for their missing comrade. That was a good thing, because it meant that Nelson and Travis were able to slip away unnoticed.

"There," Travis pointed to a sign overhead pointing to the emergency elevator. "It's this way."

"Alright," Nelson said. "When we get to the elevator, you head straight down for the garage. The police should be waiting there. I'll be along momentarily."

"And what if they're not there?"

"If they're not, run like hell, and don't stop 'till Judgment Day."

DING!

Travis and Nelson turned on the spot at the sound, aiming their weapons at the nearby elevators. Travis quickly shifted to the left side of the doors a split second before they opened, pressing himself against the wall. Nelson did likewise on the right side of the doors, holding his pistol down near his waist as two people walked out through the doors.

Travis grabbed the person closest to him and slammed her against the wall, preparing to-

_Her?_

Nelson grabbed the other one by the neck, pointing the gun at her head and prepared to fire.

"Wait!" Travis yelled, but Nelson already had the person he was holding wrangle away from his grasp and elbowed him in the face, sending Nelson reeling as his captive began to wrestle away his gun. Emily stepped away once the gun was in her hands, but lowered it when she saw Travis standing near her. Travis looked at Emily, and then at the girl he had slammed into the wall: it was Carrie.

"Carrie," Travis said as he thrust himself at her. The two suddenly locked into a passionate embrace, kissing each other furiously like two lovers who hadn't seen each other in years.

"Travis…" Carrie mumbled. "They killed everyone. They went from room-to-room, shooting everyone and… Oh, God!" Carrie collapsed in a heap in Travis' arms, sobbing loudly.

"Shhh," Travis comforted. "It's alright. They can't get you now; you're safe with me." Emily let out a sigh of relief and handed Nelson back his gun.

"Sorry about that crack in the face," she apologized.

"No problem," Nelson admitted. "You fight like you trained with the Rangers. What are you, seventeen?"

"Sixteen" Emily said proudly. "My dad's in the Marines. "Emily Howser." Emily extended her hand as she introduced herself.

"Bruce Nelson, former Army Ranger, 501st." Bruce shook her hand, then asked, "So, what's your plan?"

"Our plan is to find our friends," Emily said. "We found Travis, now we're looking for Stephen and Amber."

"Well here's a new plan: the three of you get out of here," Nelson said. "There's an emergency elevator at the east end of this floor that goes to the ambulance garage. The police are waiting there; you'll be safe."

"Not until we find Stephen and Amber!" Emily insisted.

"I'll find them," Nelson said. "The three of you need to go, now!"

"No, I'm staying," Emily insisted, taking the AK from Travis

"Why?" Nelson asked in disbelief.

"My boyfriend is still in the building, and so is his best friend. I'm not going to abandon them and leave them to certain death. Never leave a man behind." Emily said as she prepped the AK to fire. Nelson smiled.

"You got balls, bitch. Wait; do you know how to fire that thing?" Nelson asked in disbelief.

"My dad's in the army. He taught me how to hunt with an M24 sniper rifle when I was twelve!"

"Alright then," he said satisfied as he turned to Carrie and Travis. "The two of you head for the elevator, and get to the garage. Tell the police that there are at least two dozen armed men inside, and they're not taking hostages."

"Will do," Carrie said as Travis led her away. She grabbed him by the arm and turned him around to face her, planting a deep kiss on his lips.

"I love you," Travis said.

"I love you, too," Carrie wept.

"Go on," Emily said. "Move it." Travis dragged Carrie down the hall and they disappeared around a corner.

"Stephen!" Danny shouted. "Stephen, where are you?"

The gunfire kept getting closer. Screams echoed throughout the entire building as the bullets kept flying and hitting everything and everyone in their paths.

"Danny, he's not here," Karl said as he emerged from a nearby room. "Everyone in this floor is dead."

"Then we find his body!" Danny shouted. "But I am not leaving here until I find him dead or alive!"

There was a loud bang behind them, and Wynn emerged from a nearby stairwell. He turned to where Danny and Karl stood, and faced them.

"It's over, Wynn!" Danny shouted. "You couldn't get me last time, and you won't get me now!"

"Daniel, you don't understand," Wynn said in a mockingly gentle tone. He took a step towards them, causing both of them to step back. "We already have a new vessel for the curse. And that means you're expendable." Wynn pulled out a Colt 45 revolver and took aim at Danny's chest.

BAM!

The sound of gunfire echoed throughout the hall, though Danny didn't feel the bullet hit him. No, he felt just fine. Then what-

"Drop it, grandpa!" came a voice from the other end of the hall. Wynn turned to see a man in a long, tan trench coat standing with a gun of his own pointed at Wynn's head. Wynn let out a small gasp as he thought he recognized the young man; a ghost of his past, come back to haunt him.

"Loomis," Wynn muttered.

"Goddamn right," Loomis said, recognizing the man from a photo Nelson had showed him earlier as Wynn. "Now I don't know how you know me, or what your game is, Wynn, but I'm here to put a fucking stop to it!"

Danny wasn't paying any attention to Wynn and the other guy; he was too focused on the figure limping around the corner with a young woman in his arms: Stephen.

"Stephen!" Danny shouted as he began to run forward. He had taken no more than two steps when a large Shape stepped out from the crossing hallway right in front of him.

Everything that happened next happened within a few seconds, but it seemed, to everyone involved, to drag on for minutes.

Danny skidded to a stop next to the Shape, who turned and looked at him with recognition; he remembered this kid, from long ago.

Danny's face dropped to one of horror as he stared at the Shape's hulking form. Danny opened his mouth, and screamed as the Shape dropped his knife into Danny's shoulder, taking his bare hands, and twisting Danny's neck around until it finally cracked, Danny still screaming all the while.

It was only after Danny's dead body dropped to the floor that Stephen realized that it was himself who was screaming. He unconsciously dropped Amber to the floor and charged for his brother.

Loomis began screaming at Stephen, something he couldn't understand. Loomis raised his gun again and prepared to fire, but Wynn got off the shot first, sending a slug straight into Loomis chest, sending him flying off his feet backwards.

Karl took off running down the cross hall, but Wynn got off another shot at Karl, hitting him in the shoulder and sending him to the floor. Wynn then reached out for Stephen, hitting him in the neck and clotheslining him to the floor.

Silence filled the hallway, with the deep breathing of both Wynn and the Shape the only sound aside from the distant gunfire.

"Michael, it is almost time…" Wynn said as he put the gun back into his coat. There was a series of sounds like small puffs of fast-moving air, followed by another sound not to dissimilar from darts entering a foam board. Wynn turned to see Myers fall to the ground stiff as a board, three tranquilizer darts stuck in the back of his neck. As he fell to the ground, a trio of mercenaries rounded the corner and began moving Myers' body. Another merc came up directly to Wynn.

"Sir, the hospital is nearly cleaned out," he reported. "We're wrapping things up on the ground floor, and then we'll be ready to head out."

"Excellent," Wynn said. "Take this boy here to the van. He is the one I've been searching for. And grab his pretty little girlfriend over there, as well. She may be useful to us…" Wynn trailed off and began following the mercs who were carrying Michael's body.

The merc who had been talking to Wynn got on his radio.

"This is Echo Leader, requesting assistance near room 240. That's floor two, room 40."

"Copy that, Rain. What is the nature of the assistance required?"

"Two additional tag-and-bags," Rain said before dropping his radio to his side, following Wynn down the hallway towards the exit.


	28. Chapter 27: The Aftermath

Chapter 27

The Aftermath

9:50 P.M

"Loomis? JASON!"

Loomis was faintly aware that someone was calling for him. He heard footsteps approaching rapidly, though he was too busy concentrating on the pain in his chest to bother opening his eyes to see who it was, though it sounded like…

"Bruce!" Loomis rolled over into his side and clutched his chest in pain. He opened his eyes and saw Nelson and another girl Loomis didn't recognize approach him.

"God damn, Loomis, are you alright?" Nelson asked. "You've been shot!"

"No fucking shit, Sherlock!" Loomis shouted. "What was the first fucking clue?" Loomis doubled over on his knees and ripped at his shirt, pulling the bullet out of the bulky Kevlar vest underneath it.

"Fucking shit STINGS!" Loomis squealed. "Who's the babe?"

"Underage," Emily quipped. There was a groan from the other end of the hallway that caused her to derail her train of thought.

"KARL!" Emily broke into a run for the limp body at the intersection. She knelt besides Karl and flipped him over. His left shoulder was bleeding.

"Emily?" Karl asked. "I can't move my arm." A smile crept across his face.

"I'm here, okay," she smiled. "You're gonna be fine. It's just a shoulder wound."

"Alright, if you insist." Karl laughed.

"So who is that?" Loomis asked again as he stood.

"That's Emily," Nelson said. "She's one of Stephen's friends."

"Shit, Stephen!" Loomis remembered. "They fucking got him!"

"What?" Emily asked. "The mercs who were killing everyone?"

"Nelson, its Wynn! It's Terrance Wynn; he's behind all of this!"

"Impossible, he's dead!" Nelson said.

"Well a fucking ghost didn't shoot me, did he? I take it that the rest of his cronies are members of his little cult."

"Did I just hear you say that Stephen got taken by the cultists?" Emily shouted.

"Yeah, and they killed Danny," Karl added as he pointed to Danny's body. Emily glanced in its direction, then swore loudly.

"Now what are we going to do?" Emily asked. "They're all gone off to God-knows-where! How the hell are we going to find them?"

Loomis paused, then said, "I think I know exactly where they're going."

"How far up is the elevator?" Loomis asked as Nelson followed him. A short distance behind them, Emily helped Karl follow at a brisk pace.

"It should be right around this corner," Nelson said. They rounded the corner, and came upon a grisly sight; bodies were strewn every which way, blood smeared on the walls and floor and ceiling, and doors… everything was red and stunk of human waste.

"Oh fuck," Nelson said. "Was this the cultists?"

"No," Loomis said. "None of these bodies have bullet holes in them. This was all Myers…"

Nelson let out a sharp whistle, but stopped when he spotted a bloodied torso lying near a door with his body riddled with bullet holes.

"You were wrong, Loomis; this one got shot to shit." Nelson bent over to examine the body closer, recognizing the t-shirt it was wearing.

"Oh, Christ…"

A door flew open behind them and a young woman fell out of the room, landing face-first in a large puddle of human intestines. She screamed as she pulled her face away from the pile and backed against the wall. Nelson almost didn't recognize her, but Emily knew Carrie when she saw her.

"Carrie," she screamed. Emily hustled over to where Carrie was huddled against the wall, her entire body covered in blood and guts.

"Oh my God," Emily breathed. "Carrie, what happened?"

"I know what happened," Nelson said. "They got to the elevator, saw the bodies, heard the cultists coming, Travis shoved her into the room, and let them kill him to keep her safe."

"Travis…" Carrie moaned as she spied his bullet-riddled body amongst the corpses.

"There, there," Emily said as she wiped the blood off of Carrie's face, pulling her into a tight embrace. "You're alive, so you're going to be fine." Emily comforted her. She helped Carrie to her feet and lead her to the elevator. When everyone was inside, Loomis pressed the button that took them down to the garage.

"So what do we do with her," Loomis asked, pointing at Carrie. "She can't go with us, not where we're going, not in the state she's in."

"I'll stay with her," Emily offered. "I won't do any other than slow you down. At least here I can help get her to safety."

The elevator doors opened and Loomis stepped out into the empty garage.

"Alright," Loomis agreed. "Sounds like a plan. When Sheriff Brackett and the State Police arrive, tell them where we've gone and tell them to meet us there as soon as possible. Karl, what about you? Staying or going?"

Karl looked torn. He had the chance to stay here with Emily, but Stephen was out there in the hands of a bunch of religious nuts, who probably wanted nothing more than to kill him. His choice was clear.

"I'm going," he said.

"Karl-" Emily began. Karl knelt down beside her, placed both hands on her cheeks, and kissed her. "I'm coming back, I promise."

"You had better," Emily said as she kissed him back.

"Karl, let's go," Loomis said. Emily handed Karl the AK, and helped Carrie to her feet. Karl forced himself to turn away from Emily and followed Loomis and Nelson.

"Loomis, you are aware that Smith's Grove is over a hundred and fifty miles away, right?" Nelson asked.

"That's right," Loomis agreed.

"We won't make it in time; that's a two-and-a-half hour drive."

"Not if you have a police escort…"


	29. Chapter 28: Back to Smith's Grove

Chapter 28

Back to Smith's Grove

10:45

The sirens cut through the air as Loomis floored the Brackett's police cruiser down Highway 31, pinning the needle of the tachometer well beyond the red line.

Nelson sat in the passenger's seat of the cruiser while Karl was in the back seat. They had spent the majority of the trip teaching Karl how to work the gun in his hands, and Karl was now rehearsing how to fire the unloaded gun and practice loading it. Nelson was checking to see that his gun was fully loaded and that he had plenty of spare ammo.

"So do we go in stealth, or guns-blazing?" Nelson asked.

"We sneak in, first. My card will get us inside if they haven't locked it out. We head to Starks' office and see what we find there. Then, the three of us will head down into the basement and see what we can find. Save your bullets for when we need them; we want to keep our presence unknown until the last possible second. There it is," Loomis said. They reached the crest of a hill and Loomis pulled the car into a dirt side road that veered off into the woods where he drew it to a stop, shutting off the lights and engine and shrouding them in darkness. He got out of the car and walked around to the trunk.

"We'll go on foot from here," Loomis said as Nelson and Karl got out. "They'll have complete control of the place, and may have watch patrols."

Loomis opened the trunk, looked inside, and said, "God Bless you, Brackett." Loomis reached into the loaded trunk and pulled out a large Buck 120 hunting knife and handed it to Karl, as well as a silenced Beretta pistol.

"Keep things silent," he said as he handed him the pistol. "Do you need me to-" Loomis began to ask him if he needed help with the pistol, but Karl had quickly flipped the safety on and tucked it away in his jeans.

"I think this holster will do you better; less chance of blowing your nuts away. I don't think Emily would like that," Loomis said as Karl grabbed it.

"Stay close and follow me," he said as Nelson loaded himself with ammo.

They crept through the trees and down the hillside, emerging a few yards from the asylum's fence. Loomis looked around and, not seeing any guards, rushed the fence, scrambling over the top and dropping down to the ground on the other side. He turned back to Karl and Nelson and motioned for them to follow the fence to the main gate.

When they got there, Loomis entered the guard house and flipped the switch that opened the gate. Nelson and Karl walked through towards the front door as the gate closed behind them.

"There's nobody out here," Loomis said.

"That means everybody's inside," Nelson said. "And if everyone's inside, then the ritual is about to start."

"Then we'd better hurry," Karl added.

Amber came too on the concrete floor of…

Where the hell was she?

She lifted her head up and began nursing her forehead. She pulled her hand away and saw it was covered in tacky blood. Her head was throbbing, and she was cold.

The room she was in consisted only of a stainless steel toilet and a cot attached to the side of the wall and held there by chains that connected to the ceiling of the cell. She stood, and collapsed on her left leg.

The last thing she remembered was Stephen and her… God, why couldn't she remember?

She remembered running out in front of her dad's car after Stephen… After Stephen and her escaped the Myers house. That much, she remembered. After that, it was only bits and pieces, fragments. There was an alarm sounding from… somewhere, but only in her mind.

"Code black," Amber said.

"Hello!" someone shouted, startling Amber to scream. "Is someone there? Where are you?"

It was a little girl's voice, probably about thirteen or fourteen.

"I'm here, where are you?" Amber asked.

"I'm stuck in this room," said the girl. "I don't know where this room is, though."

"How long have you been here?" Amber asked.

"I've been awake for about an hour. How long before that, I have no fucking clue!"

There was a banging on bars as the girl apparently hit them out of frustration.

"Listen," Amber said. "We're going to get out of here very soon!"

"What makes you so sure?" the girl yelled.

"He's a police officer with the Haddonfield Police. He's going to be looking for me, and when he finds me, he'll rescue both of us!"

"You're from Haddonfield, too?"

"Yeah," Amber said. "My name is Amber. Amber Foster."

"Laurie," the girl said. "Laurie Tate-Strode."

Loomis took the lead through the empty halls of the asylum ground floor. Nelson followed close behind.

"Where's Starks' office?" Karl asked as he brought up the rear.

"Third floor," Loomis said.

"What's there?" Karl asked.

"The office was Wynn's before he vanished and Stark took over. Maybe there's something hidden there," Nelson suggested.

"Or maybe Wynn himself," Loomis said. "You cover the second and fourth floors. I'll check the office myself." Loomis approached the elevator and pressed the button. "If either of you find Stephen, Amber, or anyone else they may have taken, get them out of here and back to the car."

The elevator arrived and opened up, allowing the three of them to step inside. Loomis pressed three buttons as the doors closed.

In the control room, Rain watched the trio step into the elevator on the monitors. Did they really think that Wynn would have nobody watching their every move?

"Wynn," Rain said into his radio.

"Go for Wynn," came the response.

"Wynn, we got three level-two threats inside the lobby, just entered the elevators."

"Where are they going?" Wynn asked.

"The elevator is making stops on levels two, three, and four." Announced another nearby mercenary.

"Loomis will be going to Starks' office. I'll meet him there. Send patrols to the other two floors to kill the other two."

"Will do, sir," Rain said as he smiled. He was going to enjoy killing the nerd almost as much as he enjoyed turning the other kid into Swiss cheese.

He stood up from the monitors and walked over to the gun supply cabinet. He picked out an M16 and checked that it was fully loaded before reaching into his shirt, pulling out a black cord with a small wood block on it; burned into the block was the symbol for Thorn.

"For Thorn," Rain said as he nodded to his subordinates.

"For Thorn," all of them repeated as they, too, locked and loaded their weapons.

"Will do, sir," Rain said as Wynn put the radio down on the altar, a large square stage made of stone with the Thorn painted on three of the four edges. The room had no electric lights, and was instead lit only by hundreds upon hundreds of candles, casting an eerie glow within the room. On the wall behind the chamber was a very large wood Thorn symbol, casting it presence in the room like a crucifix.

The room itself was massive, about a hundred yards square. Wynn stood near the stage, with Stephen tied to a stone rack behind him.

"What the fuck do you want with me?" Stephen shouted, struggling against the leather restraints. "Why did you kill my brother? Huh? What's going on here?!"

"Calm down, Stephen," Wynn said smoothly. "You are part of something much bigger than yourself."

Stephen spat on Wynn, hitting him right between the eyes.

"Blow me! Better yet, get the princess over there to do it!" Stephen nodded over to where a pretty young woman in a very sexy leather nurse outfit (Stephen doubted she was a real nurse) with long brown hair stood by the altar. She had a large knife in her hands and a bowl of… something setting near her.

"As much as I'm _sure_ Dianna wants to perform fellatio on you," Wynn said, oddly without a hint of sarcasm. "I'm afraid we have some important things to discuss first."

"Like what? Like what the big fucking deal with you and your club is? Prepping a little Halloween orgy, you fucking pedophile? Is that what you're keeping Amber and that little girl locked up for?"

"No, they are for something entirely different," Wynn said as he motioned for Dianna to bring the knife and bowl over to the altar.

"You see, Stephen," Wynn continued. "I know you. I know you from a long time ago. So does Dianna here."

Stephen looked confused. Wynn saw this and kept talking.

"I trust that Danny told you that you're adopted, am I correct?"

Stephen nodded. "So?"

"Did he tell you who your real mother is? Who your father is?"

"No," Stephen said, thinking back to the hospital when Danny had told him.

"Well either he didn't know, or he didn't have the heart to tell you the truth. You see, I know your father. I know him very well. I also know… I'm sorry, knew… your birth mother. She was here, in this very same room as we are, when you were conceived."

"You sick bastard," Stephen laughed. "You raped a patient in an asylum, and then put me up for adoption only to come back seventeen years later because you want to have some bonding time? Hhahahahaha! That's fucking great! So when's the family reunion? Is Cousin Ed coming to visit?"

Stephen kept laughing as Wynn became more and more frustrated.

"I'm not done talking yet!" Wynn shouted as he took the knife from Dianna's hand and plunged it towards Stephen's head…

…And embedding the blade a good four inches down into the solid concrete slab Stephen lay on.

Stephen was instantly silenced.

Rock and debris rained on Stephen's face as Wynn leaned in close.

"Your mother resided in these halls, yes, but not as a patient; as my fucking prisoner!"

Wynn's face was bright red now as he pulled back with the knife in hand. "And I am not your father, either."

"Then who?" Stephen shouted. "Captain Kirk? Dracula? Leatherface? Am I close, Winnie? Oh, it's got to be Winnie the Pooh! Am I right? How about my good old friend, Michael Myers?"

Wynn grew silent. Stephen suddenly became very unnerved by it. He lifted his head from the slab and looked at Wynn.

"Is it?" Wynn simply smiled as he turned to leave.

"No! What? No!" Stephen screamed as he suddenly began thrashing about against his restraints. "Michael Myers is my father! What the fuck, man! That's fucking sick, Wynn! You're joking, I know it-"

Dianna placed a length of rope in Stephen's mouth and pulled it tightly around the slab to prevent him from talking. He still thrashed about as Dianna took the knife and pressed it to Stephen's throat.

"Just in case you're wondering, I am a real nurse," Dianna said. "Yes, Myer is your father. I know, because I was the one that…" Dianna thought for a moment, choosing her next words carefully. "…that 'milked' him, for lack of a less crude phrase. Stupid old bastard wouldn't know how to get a girl pregnant to save his life. You, on the other hand, have already done the deed, haven't you? Amber, wasn't it? Back at the hospital? That's why nobody could find you for the longest time; you didn't want to be found..."

Stephen jerked his head around, but Dianna kept the blade at his throat, stopping him. A small droplet of blood welled up around the edge of the blade, dripping down Stephen's throat. Dianna then straddled the stone slab and began grinding on Stephen, still holding the knife to him.

"However, I doubt that you'd be so cooperative as to do it again for us. So, we gotta take it by force…" Dianna took the knife and sliced through Stephen's shirt, cutting it away from his body.

"Don't worry about Amber," Dianna said. "She'll live…"

Stephen struggled to throw her off him, but was strapped tightly to the slab and could do nothing but thrash about in protest as Dianna went to work…

Loomis cautiously walked into Starks' office. He flipped the light switch on and looked around the room; nothing had changed in 24 hours ago except that Starks' body was no longer there.

Loomis shut the door and began rummaging through the drawers in David's desk, flipping through papers and other assorted random objects, not having any clue what he was searching for.

He then flipped through each book on the shelves, hoping to find… something. But there was nothing. The room was completely empty of anything useful.

"You won't find anything here," came Wynn's chill voice.

"Wynn," Loomis said as he turned. "Where are they? Where's Stephen and Amber? WHERE ARE THEY, YOU SON OF A BITCH?" Loomis withdrew his revolver and pointed it at Wynn, cocking back the hammer.

"Now, now, there's no need to get violent, Dr. Loomis," Wynn said. "Dr. Loomis. Now that's a name that's not left my lips in over fifteen years…" Wynn made his way past Loomis, and his gun, and took a seat in David's chair, relaxing as if he were recalling distant, favored memories.

"What's your angle in all this?" Loomis asked. "What's the game? I know about the cult, and the curse, and Thurisaz, but… why?"

"Look around us, Loomis," Wynn said. "It's the End Times we live in. War everywhere… famine, plagues! The whole world is out of whack! And it falls to us, to me, to restore the natural order of things."

"How? Virgin sacrifices, a little ritualistic chanting, some candles for atmosphere, all that good bullshit? Come on, has it ever actually worked?"

"Yes, actually," Wynn said coldly. "Several times over the last millennia, in fact; the most recent in my memory being Godric Roman, Michael's grandfather."

Wynn snapped his fingers, and about half a dozen of his armed guards appeared in the room. One snatched Loomis' gun away from him, while another thrust him face first into the desk, cuffing him before forcing him into a chair before Loomis fully realized what was happening.

"So it's been you from the beginning? What are you, some kind of… witch? Huh, are you Irish, too? That whole Silver Shamrock thing your idea, too?"

"No," Wynn said as he rolled his eyes. "Cochran, though part of our group at the beginning, realized that what we were doing wasn't working _fast enough_. That whole bit with the Halloween masks; that was all his doing! Fat lot of good it did him; all he wound up with were a bunch of dead kids and lawsuits up his dead ass as his legacy."

"Still doesn't answer my question: what's your angle?" Loomis repeated. "Ooh, a little tighter, if you please." Loomis winked at the guard who was tying a knot into the ropes that held him to the chair.

"My role," Wynn began, "is that of a gatekeeper, of sorts. Think of Smith's Grove, not as a mental hospital, but as a zoo. Cages where all sorts of beasts roam, their minds replaced with nothing but instinct and fear. Some of them return from that fear, like your precious patient Sarah Moyer."

"How do you know about Sarah?" Loomis shouted. Wynn continued as if he ignored the question.

"It's a place full of caged beasts, Myers included. Myers, the ultimate animal. Filled with nothing but rage on a most primal level, anger and hatred fills his lungs like the air he breathes! His thoughts are the most deranged and psychotic, and he hungers for blood, and by the gallons, sir! He must be kept locked away!" Wynn calmed down as he leaned back in the seat.

"Until it's feeding time."

"And the constellation is the alarm," Loomis realized.

"When the Mark of Thorn appears in the skies, we perform a small ritual," Wynn said as he pointed out the window to the stars, where the Thorn shone brightly against all others. "It's not on the same scale as the one you won't be seeing, unfortunately, but it lets Myers know that it is time for him to return. And what he does with that time is his own business. We just let the beast out of the cage; it is the beast that decides what it wants to hunt.

"And I am the gate keeper." Wynn repeated.

"So what does Michael have to do with this?

"Michael has been given the power, the gift of Thorn. But his time is its bearer is at an end. He has borne the curse for far too long, and he is becoming stronger with each passing moment."

"And that's bad, even for you?" Loomis laughed. "I thought Myers was supposed to be this all powerful monster!"

"It is a power of a God that Michael wields. And if left unchecked, that power will grow beyond containment. Soon, Myers himself will be engulfed by its power, understand its true potential. And when that happens… Well, it's in the bible. 'And when he opened the fourth deal, I heard the fourth beast say, "Come and see," and I looked, and behold a pale horse: and His name that sat upon him was Death. And Hell followed with him…'"

"What?" Loomis gasped. "You think Myers is going to bring about the apocalypse?"

"Not think! Know! Halloween, 1978: the night he came home. And if the ritual to transfer the curse is not done before midnight, then this will be the night when no one comes home!"

The basement was a labyrinth of corridors, pipes, and concrete walls, but there were lights. They weren't particularly ideal for seeing where you were going, but sneaking around undetected, they definitely helped his case.

Karl had been left by Loomis and Nelson to fend for himself, which was probably for the best. Loomis believed that any prisoners would be kept in the basement, and had sent Karl down here to find them. But Karl also knew that Myers was somewhere down here: he had seen him.

When he first stepped off the elevator, he heard voices approaching from down the corridor. He ducked into a utility closet and waited until they passed. He heard shackles jingling as they passed and crawled down onto his knees to look through the key hole: he saw Myers, still tranqed and dazed, shuffled down the hall by several burly-looking guards.

When Karl was sure they had passed, he left the room and continued down the halls. He had come to a gate that had been left unlocked and now was proceeding down what seemed like a ramp of some sort. Ahead, he could see faint lights up ahead and kept to the walls to maintain his stealth approach. As he got to the bottom of the ramp, he noticed bars lined the sides of the wall ahead of him. He looked around and, seeing no guards, proceeded to them.

"Amber," Karl whispered. "Are you here?" There was no response.

"Amber, where are you?" Karl hissed a little louder.

"She's not here," said a voice behind him. He turned and lifted his gun… straight at the face of a forty-ish year old woman with curly blond hair who was locked in one of the cells. She stepped forward into the dim light, and Karl could see her clearly for the first time. She had numerous stitches on her body, fresh blood welling within her bandages.

"Where is she?" Karl asked, not lowering the gun.

"They came and got her already, not five minutes ago," she said.

"Which way?" Karl asked.

"That way, towards the elevators," she said. "Can you get me out of here? I have to find my daughter."

"Who is your daughter?" Karl asked.

"Her name is Laurie," the woman said.

"Is there a guard?" Karl asked.

"There's a security office down the hall," came another voice from another cell. "They keep the keys there."

"Nelson?" Karl asked. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, Karl, it's me," Nelson replied. "Get us out of here; they'll be back any second!"

"I'll get those keys," Karl promised. "I'll be back." Karl slinked off into the darkness of the corridor. He soon came to another hallway, this one better lit than the one with the cells. He could see one of the doors was open, and a trio of the soldiers was walking out of it, though the door remained open.

Karl slowly stepped his way to the room, hiding next to the doorframe for a moment before turning into the room and pointing his gun at the head of the man in the chair.

"I'm not surprised you're here, nerd," the man said without turning. Karl looked confused, until the man said, "You're in the security office and you didn't think there would be cameras everywhere? You've made it this far for one reason only…"

The man stood and turned to Karl. He was a black man with a shaved head, who spoke with a rather refined British accent, and he wore a very serious look on his face.

"I want the pleasure of killing you myself."


	30. Chapter 29: The Ritual

Chapter 29

The Ritual

11:40

"I want the pleasure of killing you myself," Rain said. "You and your friends have been the monkeys in our wrenches all night. But I've already killed one of you. The other two will meet their fate in a matter of minutes, so that just leaves, you, your pretty friend back home, and her best friend."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Karl said, quickly drawing his knife and throwing it at Rain. Rain ducked and the knife flew straight into one of the monitors, shattering it.

"Good arm," Rain commented. "But mine's faster."

Rain grabbed Karl by the collar and gave him a good right hook to the face, sending him to the ground. Rain drew his pistol on Karl, but Karl was slightly faster. He drew his Beretta and fired off a silenced round straight into Rain's head. Blood splashed the control console and the remaining screens as Rain's body fell limply to the floor.

The gun suddenly felt very heavy in Karl's hands. He was tempted to throw it to the ground, but realized that he'd only have to pick it back up again later. He saw the keys around Rain's belt loop and picked them up, taking a moment to stare at Rain's body as it lay bleeding on the floor.

A lump formed in his throat; it was the first time he had ever killed someone. It was one thing playing Call of Duty and killing people; it was completely different when you were kneeling over their corpse as it bled onto the floor.

Brushing aside his unease, Karl grabbed the keys and ran for the door. He brandished his pistol around, searching for new targets before heading back down the corridor.

"I've got they keys," Karl said as he approached the girl's cell. But the girl was missing.

"Where did she go?" Karl asked.

"They took her," Nelson said. "She's on her way to the ceremonial room. She'll be Michael's final sacrifice, and then Stephen will kill Michael."

"Why them?" Karl asked. "What makes them so goddamn important?"

"Why?" Nelson repeated. "Because you, of all people, should know by now, Karl: family is forever…"

He took a step forward… and opened his cell door. Karl's jaw dropped as Nelson stepped out of the cage.

"Sacrifices must be of blood, and that is what makes them important."

"You fucking traitor!" Karl shouted as he raised his gun, firing into Nelson's chest; he didn't even flinch.

"Kevlar," he said matter-of-factly. "Stops up to and including twelve-gauge rounds." Nelson tapped the vest and continued forward.

"You can't stop it, Karl," Nelson said. "It's too late. In twenty minutes, Stephen will become Thorn's new bearer, and Michael Myers will be no more. Take joy in that, friend!"

"Not at the expense of my best friends!" Karl shouted.

"Oh, can it," Nelson said as he raised his gun and fired. Karl screamed as the bullet pierced his shoulder, AGAIN, and shattered his shoulder blade. Karl was sent to the floor, reeling in agony.

"Oh, you'll be fine," Nelson said as he grabbed Karl by the hand of his injured arm and began dragging him down aggressively down the hall.

The ceremonial room had filled to near overflowing with people, all of whom were dressed in fairly ornate robes. They were all races, sizes, and genders, and they all watched as Wynn, their leader, took to the altar, and they were chanting something…

Molly was strapped to the table, now wearing a white robe and a crown of mistletoe on her head. Besides her was a young girl who looked almost exactly like her, except she couldn't have been any younger than thirteen. She was unconscious, but Stephen, who was still strapped to the concrete slab, was still struggling against his bonds. His shirt had now been removed completely, and was lying in a pile of rags on the floor. Dianna had long since finished with him, but she still hung near his side, taunting and teasing him with her body.

Wynn, dressed in a very large black robe, approached the altar and stood on a pedestal so that he towered over everyone. He raised a single hand to the air, and a hush fell in the room. At once, all the cult members in the room lowered their hoods and raised their hands: every single one of them had the black Mark of Thorn upon their palms.

"Disciples of Thorn, my friends," he began. "Tonight is Halloween once again, and the final sign has been delivered.

"Here now, the unholy child birthed seventeen years ago this very night! He has come to us now, not as the Innocent Blood, but as He who will deliver us from Armageddon!"

_Armageddon?_ Stephen mouthed as Wynn continued.

"Before me is the last of the Myers bloodline! She will be His final sacrifice, as He will be The Unholy Child's first! I command thee to bring forth the Shape!"

The crowd erupted into applause as six armed men led a chained Myers into the room, where they forced him to stand near the altar. Stephen had last seen Myers kill his brother Danny in the hospital, and had been filled with rage at having seen it.

But now, after learning what he knew now, he felt nothing but pity and sorrow for Myers as he was forced into the room. His mind flashed back to the sewers, when Myers let him go, and he wondered if, somewhere deep inside him, Myers knew exactly who Stephen was.

"He has taken this journey with us, friends," Wynn continued. "And now, his journey is at an end. Release them!"

The guards who held Myers quickly unshackled him, backing away with their chains as The Shape was now free.

Dianna came up to Stephen and used the knife to slice through the ropes and leather straps that held Stephen to the cold concrete; he fell to the floor in a heap, but before he could react and attempt to make a run for it, several of the guards had him in their hands, holding him fast.

On the table, Molly struggled against her own restraints as she eyed her daughter's unconscious body.

"Laurie," she pleaded. "Laurie, wake up!"

"Let me go, you bastards!" shouted someone from the back of the room. Stephen looked up over everyone's head and saw Amber struggling against the guards who held her.

"AMBER!" Stephen shouted.

"STEPHEN!" She shouted. She gave one final heave from the guards and broke free, running as fast as she could through the crowds towards Stephen. But the cultists grabbed her before she could get too far.

"Let go of me, fuckers!" she shouted.

Nelson dragged Karl into the ceremonial room and dropped him near a door close to the altar. He leaned over and whispered, "Don't make any trouble," as he pointed his knife at Karl. Nelson then proceeded to approach the Wynn on the altar.

Karl looked as though he was about to fucking die, he was in so much pain. To get shot in the arm once was one thing, but twice in the same spot in the same night, even Karl had to admit the odds were one in a million.

He struggled to his feet and checked the gun, still in his hand, to see if it was loaded.

Speaking of, where was Loomis? He said he would meet him later, but failed to specify when or where. Was he alright?

But the moment Karl saw Amber rushing through the crowd towards the altar, where he saw Stephen held prisoner, Loomis vanished from his mind, and his entire focus became to free Stephen and Amber.

But the Shape was there, too. And he was no longer bound by shackles…

"Myers," Wynn said. He pulled a bloody kitchen knife from his robes; Myers recognized it. He had made his first kill with it many years ago; to use it for his last kill now was only fitting.

Myers took the blade from Wynn, and turned to the altar where Molly struggled against the straps.

"Michael, don't do it!" Stephen shouted. "You know who she is! You don't want to do-" A guard rammed Stephen in the gut with the butt of his weapon as Myers stood over Molly's struggling form.

"Michael, please…" Molly wept. Tears streamed down her face as Myers took the knife to her throat, lightly drawing it across her neck as if he were holding a pencil or a marker.

"Do it," Wynn commanded.

"Don't…" Molly pleaded. She tried to continue, but she was choking on her own loud sobs. Next to her, Laurie began to stir. She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was her mom's face lying next to her, tears streaming from her closed eyes down her cheek.

"Mom!" Laurie screamed in excitement at seeing her mother again.

Molly opened her eyes and briefly locked them with her daughter, but no smile ever crossed her face; she didn't have that much time.

Michael quickly took the knife, and plunged the blade hilt-deep into Molly's throat, making a sick wet ripping sound as he dragged the blade from one side of her throat to the other, turning her into a human-sized PEZ dispenser.

"MOM!" Laurie screamed again, this time in fear, as blood sprayed her face, turning it a deep crimson. Myers removed the knife from Molly's neck, blood cascading down onto the altar and pooling there on the cold stone slab.

But Myers wasn't done yet. He took the knife and stabbed down into Molly's twitching body, letting out a frustrated grunt with each stab until her body was nothing more than a pile of mangled flesh.

The room fell silent once more, save for Laurie's sobbing.

"It is done," Wynn said calmly.

"Alright, that's enough," someone in the back of the room shouted. Karl stood up and lifted the gun straight at Wynn's head. "I can't let you finish this, Wynn! You've gone too far, already, but this…!"

"You just won't stay down, will you?" Wynn commented amusedly. "What is this, third or fourth time you've been injured tonight?"

Karl stopped for a moment… and actually thought about it. He had been run over, nearly broke his leg, shot in the shoulder… twice, and punched in the face by Rain.

"Fifth, actually," he said as he stumbled towards the altar.

"Consider this the sixth," Wynn said as he raised a pistol of his own, firing it at Karl.

"Motherfucker!" Karl shouted as the bullet, again, penetrated his shoulder. "What the hell?"

"You must have a guardian angel watching you, Karl! By my count, that's three times you've been shot in the last two hours!" Nelson shouted.

"Let me go, you fucking bastard," Amber yelled as Karl collapsed to the ground. She tried to break free again, but the cultists moved in around her, seizing her arms so she couldn't move.

Karl lay squirming on the cold floor, his shoulder bleeding from the bullet. The blood had already formed a steady stream that was running towards the center of the room. Behind the altar, Wynn continued the ritual.


	31. Chapter 30: The Broken Cycle

Chapter 30

The Broken Cycle

"Our Lord, Thurisaz, tonight we bring you this, our final sacrifices. Tonight, Michael Myers has completed his journey through mortality, and is prepared to finally take a place at your side!"

At Wynn's left, Michael Myers stood motionless, waiting; on the opposite side of the altar, Stephen was trying to break free from the guards who held him in place.

"This child, spawn of pure evil, shall take his father's place as the Dark Lord's Earthly embodiment, bringing horrors upon the innocent and spilling their blood.

"Michael," Wynn said turning to Myers. He made contact with the blackest eyes on God's green Earth. Myers looked up at Wynn, staring blankly.

"Michael," he said again. "I release you." Wynn made a motion with his hand and Michael collapsed to his knees.

"I release you from your servitude to the Dark Lord, as it is now complete. You are now free to join him and his Demons in Hell, for that is where you will spend the rest of eternity. For it is where you, the Embodiment of Evil, really belong..."

Wynn and the others watched Michael collapse to the ground, curdling in agony as the evil taint left him, visible in the form of an ethereal fog that crackled with electricity and seemed to come straight from his body.

Stephen and Amber watched as Myers began convulsing, his chest heaving and his arms and legs thrashed about uncontrollably.

Michael felt something he hadn't felt since he was a little boy: pain. The last time he felt pain was when they had performed the ritual on him the first time, at the age of six; he was over fifty, now. And he was now feeling every single injury that had been inflicted upon him over the course of fifty years. All of his wounds reopened and their pain with it thousand fold. The bullet wounds he had incurred over the decades began to ooze; the knife slashes began to bleed; the burns he sustained in fires were finally starting to blister.

The pain was too much for Michael. And he screamed.

"Aggghhhhh! NOOOOOOOOO!"

It was not the scream of a dying animal; it was human. Michael's screams of pain were human.

He crawled to his knees and began thrashing about, hands on his head. He moaned and screamed more as he pulled the mask off of his face. He threw the mask... somewhere. He didn't know and didn't care. He just wanted that stuffy piece of rubber off his face.

"Make... it... stop," Michael cried. His voice... His voice was broken, slowing each syllable to a crawl and clipping his words, for he had not spoken for fifty years. It was deep, but no deeper than the voice of any man pushing fifty-five.

As soon as the last forced syllable left his mouth, along with a small stream of blood that leaked from his lips to the floor, the pain subsided. Wynn watched, along with everyone else, as Michael Myers slowly stood up from his crouching position. For the first time, Stephen got a look at Michael, his true father, and saw his face.

Michael's hair was long and matted, looking as if it hadn't been washed or cut in over thirty years (which, Stephen reminded himself, it hadn't). Michael also sported a very bushy beard, also normal for a man who had never used a razor in his life. His entire face was dirty, caked with blood and dirt. His eyes were no longer the black, empty nothingness that had been used to describe them by so many people. They were human eyes, and they were blue. Just like Stephen's.

"Dad," Stephen breathed. But Michael didn't respond. He didn't move.

He.

Just.

Stood.

And stared…

"Michael!"

Loomis shouted from within the crowd. He pulled off his hood and robe, rushing the altar from the front of the crowd.

The room became utter chaos. Loomis fired a shot into the air, causing the crowd to erupt in panic; Wynn stepped backwards and fell off his step stool, crashing to the floor as Loomis jumped to the altar and kicked over all the ceremonial tools. He pulled out his gun and fired at one of the guards that held Stephen, hitting him in the head. Stephen ducked away from their grip and rushed towards Karl, who was barely sitting up against the stone altar.

"Karl," Stephen said. "Stay with me."

"I'm not going anywhere, dude," Karl shouted. "I got shot in the fucking shoulder! Again! Go help Amber!"

"Amber, right," Stephen said, suddenly remembering her. He rushed to where Amber was struggling with her captors.

"Let her go!" he shouted.

"Shut it, kid," one said. He leveled his gun at Stephen. "Wynn may think you're important, but I don't think you're worth the shit you take in the morning."

"Stop talking about my boyfriend like that!" Amber shouted. She took her foot back-swung it at the merc's family jewels, causing him to crumple to the ground and release her. She kicked the gun away from his hand and picked it up, leveling it at his own head.

"Boyfriend?" Stephen asked. Amber looked at him, and smiled.

Loomis took his knife and began cutting through Laurie's restraints.

"Go, get out of here!" Loomis shouted.

"But my mom-"

"Listen," Loomis began. "We can't help her anymore. And if you don't get out of here now, they'll kill you too! Do you understand?"

Laurie could only whimper.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Loomis shouted again.

Laurie nodded this time, and Loomis said, "Good." He turned to Stephen and Amber.

"Amber, take Laurie out of here! Our car is parked on a hill down the street!"

"What do I do when I get there?" Amber asked.

"There's a radio in the car; call on channel 14 for Brackett or your father! When they respond, find out how long before they get here! Got it?"

Amber nodded and grabbed Laurie by the hand.

"Come on, let's go!" Amber shouted.

"Wynn's escaping!" Karl shouted. Loomis, Stephen, and Amber looked up; sure enough, Wynn was making a run for it down the hallway.

"I got him," Stephen said as he took Karl's gun and knife and followed him. When he left the room, Stephen felt something inside his head flip like a switch, buzzing as if it were alive with electricity. His heart began racing, and adrenaline coursed through his system as he began running after Wynn. Loomis ran to Karl and helped him to his feet.

"Fucking Christ," Karl swore. "Three times in the same damn shoulder? What are the odds? Hey, where's Michael?"

Loomis looked around the room. The cultists had all gone, and the room was now empty. Myers had vanished.

"Oh, shit," Loomis said. "Come on, let's go!"

"Not so fast,

Stephen chased Wynn through the corridors of the basement. Wynn had doffed his robes and was now running as fast as he could away from Stephen, who was rapidly gaining. Wynn arrived at the elevator and began pressing the button. Stephen raised the gun and fired three times, hitting the elevator doors behind Wynn, barely missing his head all three times. The doors opened and Wynn stepped inside. He pressed the button that closed the doors, which shut a split second before Stephen got off a fourth shot, which also ricocheted off the metal doors as the elevator began to climb

Stephen looked around the hall and saw an emergency exit stairwell to the left. He blew the lock off the wooden door and made his way inside, heading to the top floor.

Wynn emerged from the elevator on the top floor and flung open a door labeled "Roof Access" and began climbing the ladder to the hatch at the top. When he neared the hatch, Wynn shoved the door open, not realizing that the lock had already been sheered away. Rain pelted him in the face as he climbed through the hatch. Thunder and lightning clashed overhead as the storm rumbled on. The heavy rain impeded Wynn's vision somewhat, but he could see a Shape standing on the opposite side of the roof.

"WYNN!" Michael shouted, his voice trembling and filled with rage.

Wynn ran for the edge of the building and looked down…

Only to see the parking lot packed now with what seemed like hundreds of police officers, their cars parked every which way, lights flashing and sirens blaring loudly.

"Oh, God!" Wynn shouted.

"No God!" Michael screamed. "Just me!"

Stephen broke through the door at the top of the stairwell and ran across the hall to the roof hatch ladder, nearly slipping on the wet floor beneath it as rain continued to enter the hatch. He climbed his way to the roof and saw Wynn standing near the edge of the roof, arguing with someone he couldn't see very clearly.

"You made me like this!" Michael screamed, his speech broken and fractured. "This is your fault!"

"I made you a God!" Wynn screamed back. "I gave you power-"

"I never wanted power! I was a child!"

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Michael," Wynn said. "But if it's any consolation, the power is gone now! You're human again!"

"Not gone," Myers said calmly. "Just transferred…"

Wynn looked on in shock as Stephen came up behind him…

And plunged the knife straight into his backside.

"Just like you wanted!"

Wynn screamed in pain as Stephen removed the knife. He turned to face Stephen, and saw the blackest eyes…

…The Devil's eyes…

Stephen grabbed Wynn by the throat and squeezed tightly, crushing his windpipe in a matter of seconds. For a split second, Wynn saw the Mark of Thorn on Stephen's wrist.

"…just like you wanted," Myers finished.

Wynn gasped for air, but his lungs would not function; he couldn't breathe! He grabbed at Stephen's face, hoping to remove the mask… but there was no mask. As Wynn died, he knew what he was looking at: the new face of evil…

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

The next sound was a gunshot, and everything was silenced…


	32. Chapter 31: The End of the Night

Chapter 31

The End of the Night

Loomis and Karl ran up the stairs after Stephen.

"Stephen, wait!" Karl shouted. "Can he hear us?"

"I don't know," Loomis said "Come on, let's hurry."

Stephen kicked open a door at the top of the staircase and disappeared from Loomis' line of sight. Loomis ran faster up the staircase, with Karl a short distance behind him. When Loomis got to the broken door, he looked out into the hall and saw the roof access ladder.

"Come on, he's up on the roof!" Loomis shouted.

"Loomis, this is Brackett, do you copy?"

Loomis was almost startled by the radio in his pocket. He fumbled around in his coat for the radio and held it to his mouth.

"Brackett, this is Loomis! Where the hell are you?"

"I'm outside with the entire Illinois State Police ready to come in there and bust up this party! Where's Nelson?"

That was a good question.

"Karl, where's Nelson?" Loomis asked.

"I'm right here," Nelson said as he grabbed Loomis by the scruff of the neck and pulled him backwards.

"Fucking Christ, Nelson," Loomis cursed. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Nelson mocked. "I'm one of them. What's it to you?"

"You motherfucking traitor!" Loomis shouted at the top of his lungs as he kicked Nelson off him and rolled over. "I'll fucking kill you!"

Loomis began punching Nelson in the face, smacking his head into the floor.

"I fucking trusted you!" Loomis screamed. "I know damn well that you didn't have a change of heart walking in here! You set this up from the beginning, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did," Nelson said as he smiled a bloody smile. "Wynn was still the grand fucking facilitator, but I was the one who brought you into our game!" Nelson grabbed Loomis' wrist and muttered a small chant.

"And it's your game now, Dr. Loomis!" Nelson laughed.

"Shut the fuck up!" Karl shouted as he leveled Loomis' gun at Karl's head and fired painting the wall with Nelson's brains.

Loomis jumped backwards as Nelson died beneath him and grabbed for the radio, but stopped. On his wrist was a small triangle on a post: the Mark of Thorn.

"NOOOOOO!" Loomis shouted as he suddenly realized what he now controlled. He grabbed the gun from Karl and climbed up the ladder. He emerged into the cold rain to see Stephen grab hold of Wynn's neck, crushing it between his fingers. Loomis ran forward towards them, holding his gun aloft.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

Loomis raised his gun and fired straight at Stephen, hitting him in the back! Wynn dropped to the ground, dead like a stone. But Stephen turned back to Loomis, unfazed by the gunshot! Loomis kept his pistol raised and fired again as Stephen advanced on him.

The bullet struck Stephen in the chest, sending him backwards one step, but he kept coming! Loomis fired three more times in rapid succession, sending Stephen to the edge of the roof!

"STEPHEN!" Someone, probably Amber, shouted from the ground below!

Loomis heart skipped a beat. His world slowed to a crawl as his finger tightened around the trigger. He trained his final bullet on Stephen's head and squeezed off the round…

"NOOOOO!" shouted Michael

…just as a pair of big, burly hands reached out and swiped the gun downwards a split-hair of a second before the bullet left the barrel, causing the bullet to head straight for Stephen's chest. The bullet struck Stephen square in the chest and sent him to his knees, where he wobbled for a moment before finally falling onto the edge of the roof…

12:00 A.M.

…And lay there, head and arms dangling over the side, but he was in no danger of falling over.

Loomis watched Stephen fall to the ground, and then trained his gun on Michael.

"Don't shoot," Michal gasped. "I surrender."

Loomis lowered his gun, and had a puzzled look on his face as Brackett called to them with a bullhorn.

"Loomis!" Brackett screamed. "What's going on up there? LOOMIS?"


	33. Epilogue: The Dead of Night II

Epilogue

The Dead of Night II

Smith's Grove Sanitarium

November 1st, 2012

12:15 A.M.

The storm had dissipated, though the rain clung to the ground in massive puddles around the parking lot. Even though he was soaked to the bones, Foster hugged his daughter tightly as the medics bandaged her cuts.

"Thank God you're alright," he breathed through heavy tears.

"I'm fine, dad," Amber said, equally tearful, but not because she missed her father; she just watched someone shoot her boyfriend to death on the rooftop. Add one more body to the final count…

Nearby, Laurie was talking with Brackett about her ordeal. She, too, was sobbing, as not a minute before, they began wheeling out bodies, her mother having been the first.

"And that was when the man kidnapped you, correct?" Brackett asked.

"Lee!" someone shouted.

"Alright, thank you, Laurie," Brackett said. "Don't worry, you're in good hands now." Brackett nodded to another officer, who led Laurie away from the scene.

"Lee!" Loomis repeated as he exited the asylum. Brackett turned to his friend, stunned.

"Loomis, what the hell happened here?" Brackett asked. "I mean…" He was suddenly at a loss for words.

"It's Wynn," Loomis said. "He was behind it all. Nelson was with him, too."

Okay… and they're both dead?"

"Oh, yeah," Loomis said. "They aren't gonna get much deader."

"And what about Michael?"

Before Loomis could answer his question, there was a commotion behind him at the door.

"Keep back," an officer shouted. "Killer coming through!"

Brackett looked at the man, who had hair that was dirty and matted with blood and Brackett could smell him from across the lot.

"Goddamn, who the hell is that," Brackett said as he began coughing. He looked to Loomis for an answer, who just hung his head down low.

"Loomis, please tell me that's not…" Brackett approached the officers handling the man. "Excuse me," Brackett began. "I'm Sheriff Brackett. Who's this?"

"Would you believe it? It's Michael Myers!" the officer said.

"And why isn't he dead?" Brackett screamed.

"For all intents and purposes, I should be," Myers said.

Brackett stumbled backwards in shock.

"Did he just talk?" Brackett asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," the officer said. "Walked right up to Loomis and surrendered." Before Brackett could ask anything else, Myers motioned to the guard that he wished to leave. The guards led him towards a large SWAT van and loaded him inside.

Loomis approached the stunned Brackett.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Loomis said.

There was another sudden commotion behind them. Several news crews were rushing to the front door of the asylum as medics wheeled out another body. Brackett and Loomis walked over to see what was going on.

"Back up, back up!" Brackett shouted at the vultures. "Give them some room!"

Loomis walked along the gurney and looked at the body on it: it was Stephen, unconscious and unresponsive as the medics wheeled him towards an ambulance.

"Stephen!" Amber shouted as she saw him. She broke free of her father's grasp and ran to him.

Karl rushed in front of her and said, "Amber, no, he's gone!"

"Let me through!" Amber screamed as she pushed Karl away. Karl followed her as she came to Stephen's side, collapsing on the bed and weeping into Stephen's torso.

"No, he can't be dead!" she cried. "He's not dead!"

"Amber," Karl said as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Loomis said. "I truly am."

"Amber, honey," Brackett said as he placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "This is your chance to say goodbye, okay? He's gone, but he can still hear you, wherever he is."

Amber nodded as the tears kept streaming down her face. She turned back to Stephen's body. She placed her head on his chest and cried.

"I miss you already," she wept. "I love you…" She leaned into Stephen's face to kiss him…

…and his eyes opened!

"Stephen!" Amber cried in excitement as he sat up and placed his hands on her cheeks-

-and quickly twisted her head around before tossing her to the ground.

Foster screamed and ran for his daughter. The air around Stephen erupted in a chorus of screams. Karl grabbed Stephen and pushed him back down onto the gurney, trying to keep him still as the medics tried to restrain him. Brackett did likewise, holding Stephen's thrashing legs to the cart.

Loomis dug for his pistol.

Stephen wrestled his arms free and grabbed Karl by the head.

Karl looked straight into Stephen's eye, but could no longer see his friend.

He only saw hate, rage…

…blackness…

…the Devil's eyes…

Karl's world suddenly spun around…

…And then, there was a crack of bones breaking.

…And then, a gunshot through the darkness.

And then, for Karl, there was nothing.

There weren't even any dreams…


	34. News Article from Chicago Sun-Times

The following news article was taken from an issue of "The Chicago Sun-Times," and dated November 1st, 2012.

THE CHICAGO SUN-TIMES

"HADDONFIELD MASSACRE ENDED"

"POLICE DENY ALLEGATIONS OF CULT LINK"

Haddonfield – Illinois State Troopers are still piecing together the events of one or the most horrific murder sprees in recent history. In all, approximately one-hundred people were confirmed dead over duration of the day yesterday.

The alleged perpetrator of the murders, Michael Myers, 55, former resident of Haddonfield, is currently in custody after surrendering himself to authorities.

Myers has been near the top of the FBI's list of Most Wanted Criminals for thirty years, after having escaped Smith's Grove Sanitarium on Halloween night in 1978. Myers, who has been on the loose until ten years ago when he was believed to have been killed in a shootout, is wanted in connection with the deaths of over an additional hundred murders since '78.

Dr. Jason Renee Loomis, a doctor at Smith's Grove, had this to say:

"It's a tragedy, what's happened here tonight. But Myers is finally locked up and, hopefully, he's ready to give some answers."

But some aren't so hopeful. Lee Brackett, Sheriff of Haddonfield's police department, believes that, "Myers is a danger to everyone around him, and should be handled like a rabid animal: put down immediately."

The tragedy has also left survivors: seventeen-year-old Carrie-Lee Thorson, and sixteen-year-old Emily Moone Howser. Reports of two additional survivors are unconfirmed at this time.


End file.
